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 Barbados and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 theremin 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 Sound Behaviour to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Mark Hollis,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Faust,
The Residents,
The Offenders,
Depeche Mode,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Boredoms,
Wally Richardson,
JFA,
Sun Ra,
The Red Krayola,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Wake,
Buzzcocks,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Trojans,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pylon,
Scrapy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eric Copeland,
The Raincoats,
Tommy Roe,
Slick Rick,
Marmalade,
Jeff Mills,
Joy Division,
Newcleus,
Cheater Slicks,
La Düsseldorf,
Ponytail,
Joe Finger,
Livin' Joy,
The Black Dice,
The Durutti Column,
kango's stein massive,
Cameo,
Organ,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Slave,
Camberwell Now,
Don Cherry,
Juan Atkins,
Amazonics,
Big Daddy Kane,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
E-Dancer,
Ralphi Rosario,
Barclay James Harvest,
In Retrospect,
Outsiders,
Amon Düül II,
The Litter,
Subhumans,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cecil Taylor,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.