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 Qatar and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Throbbing Gristle to the rap 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monochrome Set 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
Terry Callier,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pagans,
Sam Rivers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Donny Hathaway,
Intrusion,
Tom Boy,
The Index,
Pulsallama,
Slick Rick,
Make Up,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Holt,
the Human League,
The American Breed,
Roy Ayers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Happenings,
Amon Düül II,
Ronan,
Zero Boys,
The Detroit Cobras,
One Last Wish,
Ohio Players,
The Fortunes,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Sarah Menescal,
Andrew Hill,
Dual Sessions,
John Lydon,
Smog,
Agitation Free,
Y Pants,
The Beau Brummels,
Jandek,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Searchers,
Franke,
the Normal,
Brand Nubian,
Theoretical Girls,
The Standells,
Circle Jerks,
Half Japanese,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Jeff Lynne,
The Music Machine,
Bauhaus,
Deadbeat,
Excepter,
Nick Fraelich,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ultra Naté,
The Dead C,
Erykah Badu,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.