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 Oman and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Electric Prunes to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
David Bowie,
Susan Cadogan,
Archie Shepp,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Glambeats Corp.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
8 Eyed Spy,
Newcleus,
OOIOO,
Anakelly,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pulsallama,
The Black Dice,
Isaac Hayes,
The Smoke,
Organ,
Subhumans,
The Neon Judgement,
Niagra,
The Happenings,
The J.B.'s,
Magazine,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jacob Miller,
Bob Dylan,
Warren Ellis,
Soft Cell,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cameo,
Sun City Girls,
Rekid,
Lightning Bolt,
Radio Birdman,
Jandek,
Cymande,
The Fuzztones,
B.T. Express,
Panda Bear,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Zeros,
Siglo XX,
Janne Schatter,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mr. Review,
James White and The Blacks,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Mojo Men,
Sonic Youth,
The Red Krayola,
T.S.O.L.,
Los Fastidios,
The Last Poets,
MDC,
the Germs,
The Victims,
Gang of Four,
John Foxx,
Dorothy Ashby,
Joyce Sims,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.