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 Cape Verde and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rosa Yemen to the electroclash 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 The Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Franke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
The Five Americans,
Donald Byrd,
The Durutti Column,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Michelle Simonal,
The Toasters,
Lyres,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Archie Shepp,
Gabor Szabo,
the Bar-Kays,
Junior Murvin,
Aloha Tigers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Gun Club,
Ice-T,
Jandek,
Japan,
Index,
Yazoo,
Neu!,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Harpers Bizarre,
Darondo,
Avey Tare,
The Barracudas,
The Monochrome Set,
Ludus,
ABC,
Sixth Finger,
Ultimate Spinach,
Supertramp,
The Stooges,
Eve St. Jones,
Delta 5,
Chris Corsano,
Vladislav Delay,
Arab on Radar,
Maurizio,
The Blues Magoos,
Magazine,
Newcleus,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Los Fastidios,
Dual Sessions,
Soft Machine,
Eddi Front,
Swell Maps,
Neil Young,
The Dead C,
LL Cool J,
Reuben Wilson,
OOIOO,
Hasil Adkins,
Sonny Sharrock,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The United States of America,
a-ha,
Au Pairs,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.