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 the UAE and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
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 Y Pants to the grime 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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Deadbeat,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Remains,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pierre Henry,
DJ Sneak,
Ludus,
The Flesh Eaters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Doors,
The Slits,
Sparks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Busters,
The Barracudas,
Glambeats Corp.,
Second Layer,
Tropical Tobacco,
Vladislav Delay,
the Slits,
Minny Pops,
Fluxion,
MDC,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Stetsasonic,
The Black Dice,
Moby Grape,
The Martian,
Magma,
Organ,
Sonny Sharrock,
Joe Smooth,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Public Enemy,
Maurizio,
John Cale,
T. Rex,
Curtis Mayfield,
Archie Shepp,
The Birthday Party,
Underground Resistance,
Pantytec,
Severed Heads,
Delta 5,
The Angels of Light,
Matthew Halsall,
Darondo,
Chrome,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Warren Ellis,
Nico,
Connie Case,
Index,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Mummies,
Steve Hackett,
John Coltrane,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Victims,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.