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 Malaysia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Seeds to the funk 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 Eyeless In Gaza. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Harry Pussy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Count Five,
Wolf Eyes,
The Electric Prunes,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Danielle Patucci,
Stiv Bators,
Bob Dylan,
Jeru the Damaja,
Grey Daturas,
The Mojo Men,
Minutemen,
Wally Richardson,
Robert Hood,
Man Parrish,
Marc Almond,
Harmonia,
Public Enemy,
Ultra Naté,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Johnny Clarke,
Todd Terry,
Black Pus,
Howard Jones,
Radio Birdman,
Lebanon Hanover,
Young Marble Giants,
Main Source,
Au Pairs,
Roy Ayers,
Kenny Larkin,
Sun Ra,
Mantronix,
The Dirtbombs,
Bang On A Can,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Gladiators,
The Mummies,
The Busters,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Unwound,
Joey Negro,
Morten Harket,
Heaven 17,
Mandrill,
ABBA,
Black Sheep,
Judy Mowatt,
A Certain Ratio,
China Crisis,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Adolescents,
Malaria!,
Gang Starr,
Royal Trux,
K-Klass,
Moss Icon,
Swell Maps,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.