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 Liechtenstein and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 808 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 Marcia Griffiths to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All The Alarm Clocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Germs,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Real Kids,
Shuggie Otis,
The Seeds,
John Lydon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bang On A Can,
Ornette Coleman,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nico,
New York Dolls,
Eric B and Rakim,
Intrusion,
Shoche,
Sight & Sound,
B.T. Express,
The Walker Brothers,
Rites of Spring,
Agitation Free,
Deakin,
Goldenarms,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Invisible,
Rosa Yemen,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Knickerbockers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pet Shop Boys,
Juan Atkins,
Joey Negro,
Black Flag,
Y Pants,
The Flesh Eaters,
Althea and Donna,
The Beau Brummels,
AZ,
Arthur Verocai,
E-Dancer,
Severed Heads,
the Swans,
The Fall,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sällskapet,
David Bowie,
Scientists,
a-ha,
Can,
Blancmange,
Whodini,
K-Klass,
John Holt,
Alice Coltrane,
Zapp,
Roger Hodgson,
The Dirtbombs,
Outsiders,
Fad Gadget,
Brick,
Donny Hathaway,
Hoover,
Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions.
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.