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 Zambia and from Delhi.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Eve St. Jones to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Drive Like Jehu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Little Man,
Amazonics,
Wire,
The Last Poets,
Groovy Waters,
F. McDonald,
Dawn Penn,
Public Image Ltd.,
Silicon Teens,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jeff Mills,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Marc Almond,
Rekid,
Procol Harum,
The Red Krayola,
Gang of Four,
The Slackers,
Tommy Roe,
The Toasters,
The Gun Club,
The Evens,
Qualms,
U.S. Maple,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Soft Cell,
Freddie Wadling,
a-ha,
New Order,
Inner City,
Maurizio,
The Durutti Column,
Minnie Riperton,
Deakin,
The Electric Prunes,
Matthew Bourne,
Byron Stingily,
Scion,
Brothers Johnson,
Gabor Szabo,
Jimmy McGriff,
Terry Callier,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Big Daddy Kane,
Cluster,
The Martian,
Gregory Isaacs,
Shoche,
Subhumans,
Flash Fearless,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Piero Umiliani,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Beau Brummels,
Basic Channel,
Massinfluence,
Yellowson,
Joy Division,
The Monks,
Drexciya,
Black Moon,
The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department, The Star Department.
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.