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 Botswana and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Aural Exciters to the jazz 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 Skaos. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Bootsy Collins,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Agent Orange,
Althea and Donna,
Frankie Knuckles,
Excepter,
Sly & The Family Stone,
MDC,
Bang On A Can,
Das Ding,
Fela Kuti,
Fear,
Pet Shop Boys,
Minor Threat,
These Immortal Souls,
ABC,
Pierre Henry,
the Human League,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Donald Byrd,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lalo Schifrin,
Yusef Lateef,
The Trojans,
Black Pus,
Chrome,
Glenn Branca,
Nico,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Monolake,
Toni Rubio,
Scratch Acid,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ohio Players,
Mars,
Connie Case,
Porter Ricks,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Wake,
Letta Mbulu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Boogie Down Productions,
Patti Smith,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gerry Rafferty,
Groovy Waters,
Wire,
Liliput,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gregory Isaacs,
World's Most,
Infiniti,
Skarface,
David McCallum,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Absolute Body Control,
Skriet,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.