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 Rwanda and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Stockholm.
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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Hot Snakes to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar 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?
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Moleskins,
Sparks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Last Poets,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kas Product,
Al Stewart,
Moby Grape,
The Raincoats,
Crooked Eye,
Oneida,
Angry Samoans,
The United States of America,
Derrick May,
Drexciya,
Bobby Womack,
The Beau Brummels,
PIL,
Ronnie Foster,
Buzzcocks,
Franke,
The Monks,
Qualms,
Ken Boothe,
Nas,
Archie Shepp,
Leonard Cohen,
Pierre Henry,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Sherman,
The Gladiators,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Music Machine,
Eden Ahbez,
Robert Hood,
The Move,
The Count Five,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Wolf Eyes,
Pussy Galore,
Bauhaus,
Bluetip,
Delta 5,
Piero Umiliani,
The Vogues,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ludus,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang of Four,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Moebius,
Easy Going,
LL Cool J,
R.M.O.,
Shuggie Otis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Toasters,
Man Parrish,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.