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 Bangladesh and from Spokane.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Stetsasonic to the punk 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All The Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doors record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sällskapet,
Graham Central Station,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Skaos,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jeff Lynne,
Joensuu 1685,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Mummies,
Zero Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
Flash Fearless,
Wire,
Lungfish,
The Tremeloes,
the Soft Cell,
The Gun Club,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Infiniti,
The Beau Brummels,
Arthur Verocai,
Kenny Larkin,
Siglo XX,
Hardrive,
Pantaleimon,
Babytalk,
Buzzcocks,
Carl Craig,
The United States of America,
Massinfluence,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Pus,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Isaac Hayes,
Hot Snakes,
ABC,
Ultravox,
The Cure,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Kinks,
H. Thieme,
Fatback Band,
The Doors,
Con Funk Shun,
The Pretty Things,
The Evens,
Johnny Clarke,
Donny Hathaway,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Angry Samoans,
The Searchers,
Avey Tare,
Second Layer,
Todd Rundgren,
New Age Steppers,
Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman, Radio Birdman.
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.