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 Brazil and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Connie Case to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum 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 mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Ultra Naté,
Drexciya,
Brand Nubian,
Morten Harket,
a-ha,
Simply Red,
Prince Buster,
Minny Pops,
Das Ding,
Reuben Wilson,
Peter & Gordon,
Main Source,
Gabor Szabo,
Ultravox,
Kurtis Blow,
Jimmy McGriff,
X-Ray Spex,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Quantec,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fatback Band,
The Dead C,
Mad Mike,
The Music Machine,
The Vogues,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Girls At Our Best!,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Swans,
Bad Manners,
Lindisfarne,
Scion,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Niagra,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
E-Dancer,
Pole,
The Evens,
Babytalk,
Alison Limerick,
Roger Hodgson,
Sugar Minott,
Lower 48,
Arcadia,
Brass Construction,
Suicide,
Moebius,
Warsaw,
the Slits,
Unrelated Segments,
Goldenarms,
48th St. Collective,
Wally Richardson,
Los Fastidios,
Jawbox,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hasil Adkins,
Tropical Tobacco,
Byron Stingily,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.