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 Guyana and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe 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 Qualms to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Jesus and Mary Chain 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reagan Youth,
Tommy Roe,
Tubeway Army,
Intrusion,
Arab on Radar,
The Blues Magoos,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lungfish,
Gang Starr,
The Associates,
The Pop Group,
the Swans,
Ludus,
Visage,
Stiv Bators,
Ponytail,
The Divine Comedy,
Deadbeat,
Fad Gadget,
MC5,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Cecil Taylor,
Porter Ricks,
Anthony Braxton,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rotary Connection,
The Victims,
F. McDonald,
Glambeats Corp.,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Au Pairs,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Fall,
The Last Poets,
Colin Newman,
Gichy Dan,
These Immortal Souls,
The Misunderstood,
Eve St. Jones,
Chris Corsano,
Talk Talk,
The Mojo Men,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
David McCallum,
Ossler,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Fugs,
The Cowsills,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Womack,
KRS-One,
Black Flag,
Mr. Review,
the Sonics,
Country Joe & The Fish,
One Last Wish,
Rod Modell,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas, Black Bananas.
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.