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 Netherlands and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 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 Mission of Burma to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Maurizio. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barry Ungar 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Oblivians,
Excepter,
the Bar-Kays,
Wolf Eyes,
Cheater Slicks,
The Busters,
Dead Boys,
The Five Americans,
Deepchord,
Porter Ricks,
Ice-T,
The Zeros,
Lungfish,
Sonic Youth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Television,
Pantytec,
Reagan Youth,
Tom Boy,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Coltrane,
Susan Cadogan,
Electric Prunes,
Quando Quango,
Kevin Saunderson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Bang On A Can,
X-Ray Spex,
Desert Stars,
Bobby Byrd,
Sun Ra,
Mo-Dettes,
John Cale,
Eddi Front,
Oneida,
Jacques Brel,
Make Up,
Sam Rivers,
Gerry Rafferty,
Spoonie Gee,
Yellowson,
The Knickerbockers,
Lindisfarne,
Aloha Tigers,
Boz Scaggs,
Barry Ungar,
The Monks,
Underground Resistance,
Dennis Brown,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wally Richardson,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harry Pussy,
Brand Nubian,
The Martian,
The Happenings,
Mission of Burma,
A Certain Ratio,
The Fall,
Blake Baxter,
Cluster,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.