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 United Kingdom and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 snare 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 Freddie Wadling to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
R.M.O.,
The Mojo Men,
Fad Gadget,
Gang of Four,
The Monks,
Marine Girls,
Soft Cell,
Slick Rick,
Al Stewart,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Grauzone,
Blancmange,
Lyres,
Marc Almond,
Electric Light Orchestra,
This Heat,
Ohio Players,
Khruangbin,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Hood,
Yaz,
Joe Smooth,
Massinfluence,
Ronnie Foster,
Lightning Bolt,
Erasure,
Scion,
The Standells,
Depeche Mode,
The Blackbyrds,
Kenny Larkin,
Gang Green,
Josef K,
Darondo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kayak,
ABC,
Japan,
DJ Sneak,
Delta 5,
Bauhaus,
Davy DMX,
Lower 48,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ituana,
Kurtis Blow,
David Bowie,
Schoolly D,
the Normal,
Mantronix,
The Vogues,
Curtis Mayfield,
Y Pants,
Nirvana,
Barbara Tucker,
Underground Resistance,
Suicide,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cecil Taylor,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.