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 Samoa and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 A Certain Ratio to the electroclash 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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Patti Smith,
Eli Mardock,
Black Pus,
The Mummies,
kango's stein massive,
Black Bananas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Freddie Wadling,
Monks,
The Cramps,
Sam Rivers,
Tim Buckley,
B.T. Express,
Derrick Morgan,
Massinfluence,
Ossler,
Matthew Bourne,
The Shadows of Knight,
New York Dolls,
Kaleidoscope,
Parry Music,
Todd Terry,
The Evens,
The Blackbyrds,
Wolf Eyes,
The Last Poets,
The Techniques,
Mo-Dettes,
Gang Starr,
Audionom,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eurythmics,
The Knickerbockers,
Rakim,
The Names,
Glenn Branca,
Alison Limerick,
Albert Ayler,
ABC,
Lakeside,
Crispian St. Peters,
Masters at Work,
Shuggie Otis,
This Heat,
Nirvana,
Von Mondo,
Duran Duran,
Soul II Soul,
Henry Cow,
Flash Fearless,
Infiniti,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Searchers,
Electric Prunes,
Nik Kershaw,
The Birthday Party,
The Stooges,
The Fortunes,
Sandy B,
Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust, Saccharine Trust.
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.