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 Peru and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 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 Barrington Levy to the funk 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 Visage. All the underground hits.
All Tommy Roe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
The Names,
Buzzcocks,
ABBA,
Marmalade,
The Leaves,
Faraquet,
Kurtis Blow,
Harry Pussy,
Infiniti,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pussy Galore,
B.T. Express,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bill Near,
Urselle,
Jeff Mills,
Magazine,
Drive Like Jehu,
Skriet,
Y Pants,
Deadbeat,
Negative Approach,
Arcadia,
Jacques Brel,
The Doors,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cymande,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Piero Umiliani,
DJ Sneak,
Joensuu 1685,
Ultimate Spinach,
Howard Jones,
Funky Four + One,
Lightning Bolt,
Iggy Pop,
Bronski Beat,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Angry Samoans,
Vladislav Delay,
Gong,
the Bar-Kays,
Minor Threat,
The Human League,
X-102,
Franke,
Eddi Front,
Colin Newman,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Pretty Things,
Audionom,
Ohio Players,
Arab on Radar,
Stockholm Monsters,
Slave,
Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway, Donny Hathaway.
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.