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 Liechtenstein and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Monks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Suicide. All the underground hits.
All Arcadia tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Q and Not U,
The Residents,
The Gladiators,
Deakin,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eden Ahbez,
Ludus,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tres Demented,
The Beau Brummels,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Cramps,
Mantronix,
Wire,
The American Breed,
LL Cool J,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Oblivians,
Drive Like Jehu,
Michelle Simonal,
Faust,
Newcleus,
The Invisible,
Sonny Sharrock,
Section 25,
Subhumans,
Talk Talk,
Rosa Yemen,
The Cowsills,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sound Behaviour,
Pantytec,
The Neon Judgement,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jacques Brel,
The Young Rascals,
Glenn Branca,
Anthony Braxton,
The Searchers,
Young Marble Giants,
Lee Hazlewood,
X-Ray Spex,
kango's stein massive,
The Move,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Skaos,
Agent Orange,
Warren Ellis,
Yusef Lateef,
Sam Rivers,
Accadde A,
Bootsy Collins,
the Bar-Kays,
Television,
Youth Brigade,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.