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 Belgium and from Tehran.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Young Rascals to the crunk 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tommy Roe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Walker Brothers,
Pantytec,
Harry Pussy,
The Blackbyrds,
Gong,
Pole,
The Red Krayola,
Heaven 17,
The Smoke,
Tom Boy,
Goldenarms,
Masters at Work,
Oblivians,
Desert Stars,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Spoonie Gee,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pulsallama,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Main Source,
Arthur Verocai,
Warsaw,
Lee Hazlewood,
Bronski Beat,
Surgeon,
The Human League,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Bar-Kays,
Mars,
The Fugs,
Lower 48,
Angry Samoans,
Zero Boys,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Connie Case,
Sandy B,
Peter & Gordon,
Arcadia,
Judy Mowatt,
Tres Demented,
Black Flag,
David Bowie,
Franke,
Peter and Kerry,
The Stooges,
Quantec,
Carl Craig,
The Buckinghams,
Juan Atkins,
Bill Near,
Mission of Burma,
Gerry Rafferty,
Matthew Halsall,
Ponytail,
Marine Girls,
Royal Trux,
Iggy Pop,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.