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 Sweden and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 Cairo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Terry Callier to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Ultimate Spinach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Max Romeo,
LL Cool J,
Don Cherry,
Crooked Eye,
the Slits,
Radio Birdman,
Ponytail,
Bobby Byrd,
Heaven 17,
Nico,
Brand Nubian,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Shoche,
John Holt,
The Monks,
The Vogues,
Adolescents,
Minutemen,
cv313,
Crash Course in Science,
the Fania All-Stars,
Livin' Joy,
Marc Almond,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Inner City,
The Dave Clark Five,
Robert Görl,
Marine Girls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Simply Red,
the Association,
Amon Düül,
The Doors,
Robert Hood,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ohio Players,
The Shadows of Knight,
Qualms,
Funky Four + One,
Scan 7,
Easy Going,
David Bowie,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Selecter,
Minny Pops,
The Saints,
Tubeway Army,
Reuben Wilson,
World's Most,
The Slackers,
Nils Olav,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Susan Cadogan,
The Grass Roots,
Glenn Branca,
Josef K,
Niagra,
Mission of Burma,
Bizarre Inc.,
Swans,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.