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 Bhutan 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Matthew Halsall to the electroclash 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pagans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Bowie,
John Holt,
The New Christs,
Prince Buster,
Panda Bear,
Theoretical Girls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Organ,
Patti Smith,
Dennis Brown,
Marvin Gaye,
Sun City Girls,
Unwound,
Malaria!,
E-Dancer,
Heaven 17,
Make Up,
Lebanon Hanover,
Robert Hood,
Cameo,
Infiniti,
Amon Düül II,
The Slackers,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Excepter,
Black Sheep,
Warsaw,
Negative Approach,
Pantaleimon,
Gang Green,
Skaos,
The Angels of Light,
Nirvana,
Quantec,
The Flesh Eaters,
Supertramp,
Altered Images,
Reuben Wilson,
Idris Muhammad,
Camberwell Now,
Marine Girls,
T. Rex,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Leonard Cohen,
Mo-Dettes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pierre Henry,
The Happenings,
Sonic Youth,
Wolf Eyes,
Sex Pistols,
Derrick Morgan,
The Mummies,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lindisfarne,
Cybotron,
Derrick May,
Clear Light,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Matthew Bourne,
The Music Machine,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.