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 Gabon and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Charles Mingus to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 The Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Glenn Branca tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Amazonics,
Ultravox,
La Düsseldorf,
Dave Gahan,
The Moleskins,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Josef K,
Outsiders,
The Fire Engines,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Gun Club,
Essential Logic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Black Flag,
The Birthday Party,
kango's stein massive,
10cc,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Bluetip,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Flamin' Groovies,
Danielle Patucci,
Eyeless In Gaza,
New Order,
Soft Cell,
Guru Guru,
Nas,
Chris & Cosey,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Human League,
John Lydon,
Sparks,
Johnny Clarke,
Ludus,
Sex Pistols,
Visage,
Tim Buckley,
Main Source,
Cal Tjader,
Matthew Halsall,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Throbbing Gristle,
Q and Not U,
Lightning Bolt,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Mojo Men,
Lebanon Hanover,
Clear Light,
Bob Dylan,
Sun Ra,
The Mummies,
Faust,
New York Dolls,
The Selecter,
Fad Gadget,
Silicon Teens,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Hardrive,
Crispian St. Peters,
Young Marble Giants,
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.