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 Nepal 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 X-102 to the grime 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 Sam Rivers. All the underground hits.
All The Raincoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dawn Penn record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Busters,
John Coltrane,
Marmalade,
Bauhaus,
The Beau Brummels,
Connie Case,
Country Teasers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Television Personalities,
Laurel Aitken,
T. Rex,
Surgeon,
Henry Cow,
Nirvana,
Pierre Henry,
Television,
Stetsasonic,
Magma,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cheater Slicks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Max Romeo,
Nils Olav,
Angry Samoans,
Eric Dolphy,
Flipper,
Jerry's Kids,
Al Stewart,
Aloha Tigers,
Grey Daturas,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Camberwell Now,
The Fire Engines,
Y Pants,
Second Layer,
Aswad,
Monolake,
Buzzcocks,
Can,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Boz Scaggs,
The Vogues,
Rosa Yemen,
Roxette,
the Bar-Kays,
Tomorrow,
Steve Hackett,
Hashim,
Roxy Music,
Tommy Roe,
Glenn Branca,
Gabor Szabo,
The Invisible,
B.T. Express,
Hoover,
Arthur Verocai,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Pus,
Bob Dylan,
Suicide,
The Real Kids,
Yusef Lateef,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.