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 Andorra and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the guitar 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 Johnny Clarke to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Offenders 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 rhodes and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
Don Cherry,
Lyres,
The Cowsills,
Essential Logic,
Infiniti,
Boredoms,
The Searchers,
Bob Dylan,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lou Christie,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Womack,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Lalann,
The Flesh Eaters,
Ornette Coleman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Slick Rick,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Outsiders,
Jimmy McGriff,
Nils Olav,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ultra Naté,
The Moleskins,
Agent Orange,
Los Fastidios,
Yusef Lateef,
the Association,
Wasted Youth,
The Count Five,
Todd Rundgren,
Gang Green,
Faust,
The American Breed,
The Birthday Party,
Howard Jones,
The Dirtbombs,
Swell Maps,
Nirvana,
The Index,
Tres Demented,
Susan Cadogan,
Wings,
Country Teasers,
Model 500,
New Order,
Tim Buckley,
Brick,
Fela Kuti,
Section 25,
Spandau Ballet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Janne Schatter,
The Gun Club,
The Fugs,
Laurel Aitken,
the Sonics,
Adolescents,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.