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 Afghanistan and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 The Slits to the grunge 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp 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 spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jacques Brel,
Babytalk,
Deakin,
Bobby Womack,
the Fania All-Stars,
Harmonia,
Kerri Chandler,
Unrelated Segments,
Lucky Dragons,
China Crisis,
Tommy Roe,
Rufus Thomas,
Lalann,
Tomorrow,
Chrome,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Erykah Badu,
Supertramp,
Joey Negro,
The Leaves,
Black Pus,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sunsets and Hearts,
June of 44,
Television,
Don Cherry,
These Immortal Souls,
The Seeds,
Peter & Gordon,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Inner City,
The Gories,
The Blackbyrds,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eli Mardock,
Bad Manners,
Suicide,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Barracudas,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Groovy Waters,
The Grass Roots,
Roxette,
Delon & Dalcan,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Byrd,
Pussy Galore,
Technova,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Glenn Branca,
Rosa Yemen,
Eric Copeland,
Visage,
T. Rex,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rapeman,
Pet Shop Boys,
Marine Girls,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.