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 Bulgaria and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 mellotron 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 Lee Hazlewood to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Siouxsie and the Banshees record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Leaves,
Public Image Ltd.,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crooked Eye,
Kayak,
the Fania All-Stars,
The United States of America,
Youth Brigade,
Crispian St. Peters,
Oblivians,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Henry Cow,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lakeside,
Aswad,
The Invisible,
Big Daddy Kane,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Soft Cell,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Germs,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minutemen,
Eric Copeland,
Monks,
Essential Logic,
Marc Almond,
World's Most,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Popol Vuh,
Stockholm Monsters,
Skaos,
Mo-Dettes,
Derrick May,
Masters at Work,
Joey Negro,
Porter Ricks,
Dave Gahan,
Reuben Wilson,
Alton Ellis,
Brass Construction,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Parry Music,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ultravox,
Judy Mowatt,
Lyres,
The Sound,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Womack,
Index,
Cluster,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ituana,
Derrick Morgan,
Neil Young,
Underground Resistance,
Metal Thangz,
June Days,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.