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 Yemen and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the techno 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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Rundgren record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
F. McDonald,
Gang Green,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
H. Thieme,
The Dirtbombs,
Lyres,
Joey Negro,
Fear,
X-Ray Spex,
The Residents,
OOIOO,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Index,
Television,
David Axelrod,
Interpol,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Slackers,
Magazine,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pussy Galore,
Massinfluence,
Drexciya,
Jerry's Kids,
Connie Case,
The Walker Brothers,
DJ Style,
These Immortal Souls,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eli Mardock,
Kas Product,
Mad Mike,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Standells,
World's Most,
Aaron Thompson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Brothers Johnson,
Howard Jones,
The Shadows of Knight,
DNA,
Moss Icon,
Robert Wyatt,
U.S. Maple,
Grauzone,
Guru Guru,
Bill Wells,
The Smiths,
Leonard Cohen,
The Tremeloes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Slits,
Sight & Sound,
Robert Görl,
Zapp,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.