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 Honduras and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Saints 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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Symarip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warren Ellis,
a-ha,
Make Up,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Scott Walker,
Al Stewart,
X-102,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
DJ Sneak,
The Gap Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deepchord,
Davy DMX,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Amon Düül II,
Lindisfarne,
Angry Samoans,
Clear Light,
Pharoah Sanders,
Yaz,
Infiniti,
48th St. Collective,
Archie Shepp,
Matthew Halsall,
Girls At Our Best!,
Black Pus,
Malaria!,
Mars,
Wasted Youth,
Wings,
The Toasters,
Chris Corsano,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Robert Wyatt,
The Busters,
Minny Pops,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Severed Heads,
Ponytail,
Black Bananas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Visage,
T. Rex,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Youth Brigade,
The Pop Group,
Jeff Mills,
Country Teasers,
Grauzone,
Grandmaster Flash,
Vladislav Delay,
The Associates,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Sonics,
Q and Not U,
Magazine,
Terrestrial Tones,
Janne Schatter,
The Moody Blues,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.