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 Luxembourg and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Madrid.
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 rhodes 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 Harpers Bizarre to the grime 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 Chrome. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Donny Hathaway record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Green,
H. Thieme,
Rufus Thomas,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tom Boy,
Yellowson,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Janne Schatter,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Guru Guru,
The Walker Brothers,
The Misunderstood,
Radiopuhelimet,
Altered Images,
Soft Machine,
Ultravox,
These Immortal Souls,
The Mummies,
Organ,
Don Cherry,
Reagan Youth,
Todd Rundgren,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Skatalites,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
David McCallum,
Monks,
Henry Cow,
Rhythm & Sound,
Cymande,
Qualms,
Sonic Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Excepter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Fat Boys,
Fad Gadget,
the Germs,
Ronnie Foster,
The Pretty Things,
Roy Ayers,
Nick Fraelich,
Boogie Down Productions,
David Axelrod,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Beau Brummels,
New Order,
Flipper,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mantronix,
Grauzone,
U.S. Maple,
Hoover,
The Busters,
Scrapy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Fortunes,
T. Rex,
Deepchord,
Prince Buster,
Porter Ricks,
The Leaves,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.