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 Jordan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Toni Rubio,
Yazoo,
Moby Grape,
Andrew Hill,
DNA,
Symarip,
The Durutti Column,
Tomorrow,
Robert Hood,
Piero Umiliani,
Dennis Brown,
Gang Starr,
Albert Ayler,
Morten Harket,
Iggy Pop,
Soul Sonic Force,
Neil Young,
Wasted Youth,
ABC,
Ohio Players,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Offenders,
June Days,
The Star Department,
One Last Wish,
The Flesh Eaters,
Vainqueur,
Inner City,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Lalann,
UT,
10cc,
Eric Dolphy,
T. Rex,
The Gun Club,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pere Ubu,
Judy Mowatt,
the Sonics,
Delon & Dalcan,
PIL,
FM Einheit,
Zapp,
The Smoke,
ABBA,
Chris Corsano,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Electric Prunes,
Byron Stingily,
Stockholm Monsters,
Panda Bear,
Radio Birdman,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Adolescents,
Neu!,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sixth Finger,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Tremeloes,
The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine, The Music Machine.
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.