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 Angola and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 sitar 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 Pussy Galore to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gories,
Eddi Front,
The Grass Roots,
Marine Girls,
Gong,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ornette Coleman,
Gang Green,
The Pop Group,
Pantytec,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Toasters,
Jacques Brel,
Parry Music,
The Red Krayola,
Young Marble Giants,
JFA,
Marmalade,
Youth Brigade,
Kaleidoscope,
Eurythmics,
Tropical Tobacco,
Swell Maps,
Von Mondo,
Black Flag,
Second Layer,
Loose Ends,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rapeman,
Arcadia,
Ludus,
Sex Pistols,
Khruangbin,
Deakin,
The Five Americans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Niagra,
The Trojans,
Lou Christie,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Happenings,
Yaz,
Fad Gadget,
Connie Case,
Absolute Body Control,
Crime,
Joyce Sims,
Scratch Acid,
Talk Talk,
Nils Olav,
Con Funk Shun,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Todd Terry,
Kerri Chandler,
Curtis Mayfield,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Fortunes,
Ultra Naté,
Max Romeo,
The Slits,
Girls At Our Best!,
David McCallum,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.