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 Samoa and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Mumbai and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 güiro 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 Desert Stars to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
The Birthday Party,
The Remains,
The Smiths,
Brand Nubian,
Model 500,
Suicide,
Moss Icon,
The Dirtbombs,
Sugar Minott,
David Axelrod,
Pole,
E-Dancer,
Danielle Patucci,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Mummies,
The Blues Magoos,
Deakin,
Janne Schatter,
Bauhaus,
The Pretty Things,
Trumans Water,
Graham Central Station,
Marine Girls,
David McCallum,
The Gladiators,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Magma,
The Fall,
Sarah Menescal,
LL Cool J,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Maurizio,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Trojans,
Barbara Tucker,
the Normal,
The Beau Brummels,
Swans,
World's Most,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Doors,
Reuben Wilson,
Kurtis Blow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Mandrill,
Darondo,
The Tremeloes,
Loose Ends,
kango's stein massive,
Rufus Thomas,
Motorama,
Lou Christie,
Boz Scaggs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kaleidoscope,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.