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 Gabon and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 sitar 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 Magma to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 T. Rex. All the underground hits.
All Organ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Bill Near,
Newcleus,
Lou Reed,
Mark Hollis,
The Sonics,
Cybotron,
D'Angelo,
PIL,
Tubeway Army,
Public Enemy,
Thee Headcoats,
Con Funk Shun,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Gladiators,
Darondo,
Rhythm & Sound,
Wally Richardson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bob Dylan,
Main Source,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Procol Harum,
Godley & Creme,
Roxette,
Pantytec,
The Seeds,
Basic Channel,
New Age Steppers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Blackbyrds,
Minnie Riperton,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
a-ha,
The Angels of Light,
The Trojans,
The Toasters,
Pagans,
Grandmaster Flash,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kevin Saunderson,
Buzzcocks,
Pussy Galore,
Swell Maps,
Henry Cow,
Babytalk,
Visage,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Arab on Radar,
Liliput,
Donald Byrd,
Grey Daturas,
Adolescents,
Fear,
Lower 48,
Camouflage,
The Searchers,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.