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 Japan and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tehran.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dawn Penn. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
The Angels of Light,
John Cale,
Howard Jones,
John Foxx,
The New Christs,
Average White Band,
Maurizio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pere Ubu,
Pharoah Sanders,
Popol Vuh,
Loose Ends,
Jeru the Damaja,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Barry Ungar,
Marc Almond,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Siglo XX,
The Moody Blues,
The Gun Club,
The Golliwogs,
The Cramps,
The Fortunes,
Brand Nubian,
Suicide,
Quando Quango,
Nico,
The Monks,
Simply Red,
James White and The Blacks,
Eden Ahbez,
Wire,
Radio Birdman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Essential Logic,
Ultra Naté,
Outsiders,
The Kinks,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Busters,
the Bar-Kays,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pulsallama,
Fatback Band,
Rhythm & Sound,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Blancmange,
Monks,
Roger Hodgson,
The Walker Brothers,
The Blues Magoos,
FM Einheit,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Icehouse,
Joyce Sims,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sonic Youth,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Derrick May,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.