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 Sudan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Marcia Griffiths 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 The Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Neil Young,
X-Ray Spex,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hoover,
The Doors,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sunsets and Hearts,
A Certain Ratio,
Kaleidoscope,
Gabor Szabo,
Fat Boys,
The Black Dice,
ABC,
Ten City,
Eric Dolphy,
Lakeside,
Brass Construction,
Black Moon,
Mo-Dettes,
AZ,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
8 Eyed Spy,
Stiv Bators,
Goldenarms,
LL Cool J,
Johnny Clarke,
Junior Murvin,
Intrusion,
Radio Birdman,
Quantec,
Sparks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ponytail,
Archie Shepp,
Franke,
Ultra Naté,
Electric Light Orchestra,
London Community Gospel Choir,
John Holt,
Gang Green,
Subhumans,
Inner City,
Kevin Saunderson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Grey Daturas,
Urselle,
The Music Machine,
Hot Snakes,
Lalann,
Sugar Minott,
Fear,
Y Pants,
Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U, Q and Not U.
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.