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 Andorra and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 spring reverb 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 Ten City to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a One Last Wish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Associates,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bobby Womack,
Pylon,
Rekid,
Ludus,
Mission of Burma,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Banda Bassotti,
Blancmange,
Sarah Menescal,
Goldenarms,
Matthew Halsall,
Mandrill,
Henry Cow,
Agitation Free,
Scan 7,
The Smoke,
The Last Poets,
Loose Ends,
Excepter,
Andrew Hill,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ken Boothe,
Gil Scott Heron,
the Bar-Kays,
Crime,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sugar Minott,
Radiohead,
Black Moon,
Mr. Review,
Bronski Beat,
Sandy B,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bootsy Collins,
U.S. Maple,
Motorama,
X-102,
Rapeman,
Nas,
Warsaw,
Robert Wyatt,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Minnie Riperton,
E-Dancer,
Oblivians,
The Motions,
Deakin,
Sonic Youth,
Prince Buster,
Barry Ungar,
The Modern Lovers,
Cymande,
Aswad,
The Gap Band,
Bobby Sherman,
Graham Central Station,
Fat Boys,
Scott Walker,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Brass Construction,
Jerry's Kids,
The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats, The Raincoats.
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.