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 Bahamas and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eli Mardock record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hashim,
Liliput,
The American Breed,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Eden Ahbez,
Warren Ellis,
The Doors,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Wyatt,
Popol Vuh,
Jeru the Damaja,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bob Dylan,
Trumans Water,
The Mummies,
Bad Manners,
Juan Atkins,
Roger Hodgson,
Jandek,
The Happenings,
The Black Dice,
Sam Rivers,
Sixth Finger,
The Velvet Underground,
Pagans,
Country Teasers,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Arcadia,
Kurtis Blow,
Graham Central Station,
John Coltrane,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lyres,
Boogie Down Productions,
Minnie Riperton,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Josef K,
The Slackers,
Byron Stingily,
Lungfish,
Skaos,
Underground Resistance,
Max Romeo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Altered Images,
Kevin Saunderson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Saints,
Sparks,
Aaron Thompson,
The Moody Blues,
Dennis Brown,
Boz Scaggs,
The Blackbyrds,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Isaac Hayes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai, Arthur Verocai.
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.