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 Equatorial Guinea and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 linndrum 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 Swell Maps to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sight & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
June Days,
Crash Course in Science,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Black Dice,
Lou Christie,
Technova,
The Vogues,
Jeff Lynne,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Bar-Kays,
Jimmy McGriff,
Swans,
Masters at Work,
Nirvana,
Alton Ellis,
The Martian,
Eurythmics,
Symarip,
The Pretty Things,
Patti Smith,
Whodini,
ABBA,
Bauhaus,
The United States of America,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Peter & Gordon,
The Monochrome Set,
Matthew Halsall,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jawbox,
Angry Samoans,
Pantytec,
Bush Tetras,
Heaven 17,
Lou Reed,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pet Shop Boys,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tom Boy,
Grauzone,
MC5,
The Fugs,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dorothy Ashby,
Absolute Body Control,
L. Decosne,
David McCallum,
The Raincoats,
Crispy Ambulance,
Silicon Teens,
Jeff Mills,
Nas,
Leonard Cohen,
The Monks,
Spandau Ballet,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Marcia Griffiths,
Von Mondo,
Vainqueur,
Cluster,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.