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 Germany and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 chamberlin 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 Eddi Front to the grunge 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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deepchord record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fatback Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wally Richardson,
The Kinks,
Hasil Adkins,
Tommy Roe,
Niagra,
Zapp,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pylon,
Roger Hodgson,
The Stooges,
Sällskapet,
The Gories,
The Remains,
Skaos,
Index,
The Red Krayola,
Agent Orange,
Bush Tetras,
Bluetip,
Moby Grape,
Ultravox,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minor Threat,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Easy Going,
The American Breed,
New Order,
Y Pants,
Graham Central Station,
Sonny Sharrock,
John Foxx,
Jesper Dahlback,
ABC,
The Move,
Essential Logic,
Faust,
The Electric Prunes,
Smog,
the Human League,
Stetsasonic,
Severed Heads,
Barry Ungar,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pulsallama,
The Count Five,
Laurel Aitken,
Harmonia,
Von Mondo,
Make Up,
Procol Harum,
Siglo XX,
Gang Gang Dance,
World's Most,
The Star Department,
Scott Walker,
Davy DMX,
The Dirtbombs,
Peter & Gordon,
Pussy Galore,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.