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 Tunisia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manila.
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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 The Grass Roots to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Vogues. All the underground hits.
All Cheater Slicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
10cc,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Golliwogs,
The Index,
Warsaw,
Anakelly,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Steve Hackett,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Red Krayola,
Johnny Osbourne,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Soulsonic Force,
Jeff Mills,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cheater Slicks,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Sonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fear,
Scion,
The Blues Magoos,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Slits,
Skarface,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gil Scott Heron,
Terry Callier,
The Toasters,
The Modern Lovers,
Lyres,
Donny Hathaway,
Fat Boys,
Ornette Coleman,
The Wake,
T. Rex,
The Tremeloes,
The Fortunes,
The Victims,
Eden Ahbez,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ponytail,
Black Pus,
Jawbox,
Stereo Dub,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Arthur Verocai,
Mo-Dettes,
Jacques Brel,
Scott Walker,
Ludus,
Brothers Johnson,
The Dave Clark Five,
Amazonics,
Mr. Review,
The Moleskins,
Scientists,
Sound Behaviour,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.