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 Sudan and from Cairo.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 guitar 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 Sam Rivers to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ludus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Porter Ricks,
Prince Buster,
Mad Mike,
R.M.O.,
Bronski Beat,
Barbara Tucker,
The Divine Comedy,
Avey Tare,
Accadde A,
Reuben Wilson,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jandek,
Todd Rundgren,
The Sonics,
Los Fastidios,
Kenny Larkin,
Sam Rivers,
The Detroit Cobras,
New Order,
Model 500,
Alton Ellis,
The Dead C,
Bush Tetras,
Erykah Badu,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mission of Burma,
David Axelrod,
Marmalade,
Black Bananas,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rites of Spring,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marine Girls,
John Foxx,
Laurel Aitken,
Tommy Roe,
Urselle,
Heaven 17,
Unrelated Segments,
ABC,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Robert Wyatt,
Minnie Riperton,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Junior Murvin,
Visage,
Kurtis Blow,
The Skatalites,
Lou Christie,
The Fugs,
Agent Orange,
Terrestrial Tones,
Joy Division,
Cheater Slicks,
Lightning Bolt,
David McCallum,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Slave,
Dead Boys,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.