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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Victims to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Clear Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dark Day,
The American Breed,
Blossom Toes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jandek,
Second Layer,
The Trojans,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sun Ra,
Gil Scott Heron,
Don Cherry,
Zero Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
Rekid,
Warren Ellis,
Lindisfarne,
Sparks,
Ronnie Foster,
Scan 7,
Charles Mingus,
Nik Kershaw,
Rapeman,
Ludus,
Arab on Radar,
B.T. Express,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Freddie Wadling,
The Dead C,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Eurythmics,
John Coltrane,
Hashim,
Fatback Band,
Bill Near,
The Birthday Party,
Slick Rick,
H. Thieme,
Soul II Soul,
Black Bananas,
Blake Baxter,
Terrestrial Tones,
kango's stein massive,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Rotary Connection,
The Remains,
Panda Bear,
Bang On A Can,
Sarah Menescal,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Icehouse,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Can,
The Count Five,
Bobby Sherman,
Graham Central Station,
Tommy Roe,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Joyce Sims,
Mo-Dettes,
Youth Brigade,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.