Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Russia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Alarm Clocks to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Bourne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Circle Jerks,
The Martian,
Rapeman,
Maleditus Sound,
Soft Cell,
The Remains,
Saccharine Trust,
Roger Hodgson,
Matthew Halsall,
Lucky Dragons,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Amazonics,
Soul Sonic Force,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minny Pops,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Amon Düül II,
Quantec,
The Divine Comedy,
Suburban Knight,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sixth Finger,
Alice Coltrane,
Audionom,
Lalann,
Jeff Mills,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Byrd,
Aswad,
John Coltrane,
Man Parrish,
Black Sheep,
Lalo Schifrin,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Judy Mowatt,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Wolf Eyes,
The Electric Prunes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Mummies,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Byron Stingily,
Whodini,
The J.B.'s,
Yaz,
Babytalk,
The Index,
Arthur Verocai,
Gichy Dan,
Yellowson,
Infiniti,
L. Decosne,
Gang Green,
The Beau Brummels,
The Doobie Brothers,
Buzzcocks,
The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground, The Velvet Underground.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.