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 Suriname and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Index to the grunge 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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Warsaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Monks,
John Cale,
Ossler,
Jeff Lynne,
Rekid,
Black Moon,
Mandrill,
Hasil Adkins,
The Detroit Cobras,
Funkadelic,
Banda Bassotti,
Pole,
Unwound,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Scion,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Reuben Wilson,
D'Angelo,
Alice Coltrane,
Kayak,
Pere Ubu,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Loose Ends,
Eve St. Jones,
Absolute Body Control,
The Vogues,
Fugazi,
Anthony Braxton,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Electric Prunes,
New Order,
Neil Young,
A Certain Ratio,
Big Daddy Kane,
Schoolly D,
Dawn Penn,
Crime,
Bronski Beat,
Kerri Chandler,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Underground Resistance,
Pylon,
Motorama,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Juan Atkins,
David McCallum,
Yazoo,
Amon Düül II,
Kool Moe Dee,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Swell Maps,
The Martian,
June of 44,
Pharoah Sanders,
Donny Hathaway,
Los Fastidios,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kaleidoscope,
Arcadia,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.