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 Djibouti and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 harpsichord 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 rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All Ten City tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
Con Funk Shun,
Soulsonic Force,
Alton Ellis,
Neu!,
The Blues Magoos,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Tomorrow,
The Alarm Clocks,
Cecil Taylor,
Franke,
Todd Rundgren,
Tommy Roe,
Josef K,
Don Cherry,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Smog,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Slick Rick,
Rhythm & Sound,
Laurel Aitken,
Byron Stingily,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Black Dice,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Au Pairs,
Second Layer,
Sexual Harrassment,
Eddi Front,
Scott Walker,
Goldenarms,
Rites of Spring,
Jacques Brel,
Malaria!,
Kerri Chandler,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eric Dolphy,
Average White Band,
Wings,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Graham Central Station,
Gabor Szabo,
Silicon Teens,
The Red Krayola,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Suburban Knight,
Skriet,
Gil Scott Heron,
Accadde A,
The Gap Band,
Altered Images,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Slits,
Bob Dylan,
Susan Cadogan,
The Pop Group,
Harry Pussy,
Ituana,
Cymande,
Peter & Gordon,
Juan Atkins,
The Fortunes,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.