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 Georgia and from Spokane.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Outsiders to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Clarke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Ronnie Foster,
Hoover,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slick Rick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Deepchord,
Gichy Dan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skaos,
Chrome,
Soft Cell,
Chris Corsano,
Roger Hodgson,
Grey Daturas,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Dead C,
Kurtis Blow,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Black Sheep,
Tomorrow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
F. McDonald,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tim Buckley,
Los Fastidios,
Sun City Girls,
The Mummies,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Heaven 17,
Bauhaus,
the Bar-Kays,
The Walker Brothers,
Icehouse,
Nation of Ulysses,
Wally Richardson,
Joe Finger,
Idris Muhammad,
Schoolly D,
Hot Snakes,
Cheater Slicks,
Adolescents,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Quando Quango,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Warren Ellis,
Bobby Sherman,
Rosa Yemen,
Barry Ungar,
Throbbing Gristle,
Boredoms,
Todd Terry,
Alphaville,
KRS-One,
Connie Case,
Television,
Althea and Donna,
Japan,
The Trojans,
The Fuzztones,
T. Rex,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.