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 Benin and from Madrid.
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 Salvador and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Ultimate Spinach to the jazz 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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Michelle Simonal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Sugar Minott,
Barclay James Harvest,
Saccharine Trust,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Robert Görl,
Audionom,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jeff Mills,
Judy Mowatt,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lou Christie,
Magazine,
Mr. Review,
Monolake,
Jacques Brel,
Darondo,
Yazoo,
Scientists,
Camouflage,
Eric Dolphy,
Wolf Eyes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Black Pus,
Marc Almond,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Harry Pussy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Soul Sonic Force,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Zeros,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Los Fastidios,
Aloha Tigers,
Urselle,
New Age Steppers,
The Mojo Men,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Real Kids,
Nirvana,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The American Breed,
Soulsonic Force,
Neil Young,
Absolute Body Control,
Liliput,
Pagans,
Index,
the Soft Cell,
Nico,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Stooges,
Maurizio,
Todd Terry,
Yaz,
China Crisis,
Tres Demented,
Pole,
Desert Stars,
Sun Ra,
Adolescents,
Neu!,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.