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 Slovenia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the rap 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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Roger Hodgson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Darondo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Kayak,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mark Hollis,
The Last Poets,
Stereo Dub,
F. McDonald,
Monolake,
Bobby Sherman,
Traffic Nightmare,
Matthew Bourne,
Sandy B,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Misunderstood,
Pole,
Vainqueur,
Sun Ra,
Lindisfarne,
Nas,
Kevin Saunderson,
Adolescents,
The Velvet Underground,
LL Cool J,
Rotary Connection,
John Holt,
June of 44,
These Immortal Souls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The American Breed,
Connie Case,
The Kinks,
Minny Pops,
The Buckinghams,
Nik Kershaw,
T. Rex,
Fear,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jeru the Damaja,
Robert Görl,
Agitation Free,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Heaven 17,
The Birthday Party,
Black Sheep,
The Fugs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Can,
Electric Prunes,
a-ha,
Ludus,
The Neon Judgement,
The Slits,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jimmy McGriff,
Wasted Youth,
the Slits,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sonny Sharrock,
Joy Division,
The Cowsills,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.