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 Denmark and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Robert Wyatt to the grime 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Hasil Adkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Pylon,
Pantaleimon,
Funkadelic,
Graham Central Station,
Lightning Bolt,
Boredoms,
Panda Bear,
Juan Atkins,
Amon Düül II,
Tom Boy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Little Man,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Royal Trux,
Cluster,
The Neon Judgement,
Drexciya,
K-Klass,
Lyres,
Swans,
Public Enemy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
B.T. Express,
Iggy Pop,
A Certain Ratio,
Hot Snakes,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kerri Chandler,
Basic Channel,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultravox,
Bill Near,
Eric Copeland,
Pharoah Sanders,
Josef K,
The Electric Prunes,
Jeff Lynne,
Camouflage,
The Angels of Light,
X-101,
Moebius,
Gastr Del Sol,
Crispy Ambulance,
Index,
The Techniques,
R.M.O.,
Supertramp,
Byron Stingily,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Minny Pops,
Lebanon Hanover,
Peter and Kerry,
Pagans,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Flesh Eaters,
Scan 7,
Franke,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.