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 Panama and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Donald Byrd tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Interpol 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lafayette Afro Rock Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Martian,
Franke,
Graham Central Station,
Eric Dolphy,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Zeros,
Matthew Bourne,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Tremeloes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Procol Harum,
The Move,
The Toasters,
Bootsy Collins,
The Modern Lovers,
Tomorrow,
Grauzone,
Rod Modell,
Crash Course in Science,
The Mummies,
X-Ray Spex,
Ken Boothe,
Matthew Halsall,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mary Jane Girls,
Warsaw,
Television Personalities,
Second Layer,
Sight & Sound,
Marcia Griffiths,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Gladiators,
Gil Scott Heron,
Peter & Gordon,
Jacob Miller,
Section 25,
Bill Near,
Moss Icon,
The Offenders,
Lyres,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
the Germs,
Lucky Dragons,
Kayak,
Robert Wyatt,
Tim Buckley,
Trumans Water,
Rufus Thomas,
The Grass Roots,
The Standells,
Goldenarms,
Lalann,
The Wake,
Thee Headcoats,
Sun Ra,
Dennis Brown,
Cluster,
Terry Callier,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.