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 Swaziland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 John Coltrane to the electroclash 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 Can. All the underground hits.
All U.S. Maple tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fluxion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mark Hollis,
Black Sheep,
Magma,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Mummies,
Maleditus Sound,
Anthony Braxton,
Q and Not U,
Archie Shepp,
Ossler,
Black Flag,
The Evens,
Nico,
Oneida,
The Fuzztones,
Aural Exciters,
Flash Fearless,
Organ,
The Saints,
Model 500,
a-ha,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Niagra,
the Bar-Kays,
Minnie Riperton,
Prince Buster,
The Offenders,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rakim,
The Black Dice,
Harpers Bizarre,
R.M.O.,
Junior Murvin,
Khruangbin,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Fugs,
Matthew Halsall,
Easy Going,
Sex Pistols,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pantaleimon,
Agitation Free,
Grauzone,
Rufus Thomas,
John Cale,
Hot Snakes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tears for Fears,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bob Dylan,
Minor Threat,
Dark Day,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Pretty Things,
Yellowson,
Vladislav Delay,
Talk Talk,
Kool Moe Dee,
Stereo Dub,
Quadrant,
Ice-T,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.