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 Afghanistan and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Chris Corsano to the electroclash 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Deepchord tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
The Leaves,
Bobby Womack,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Accadde A,
Donny Hathaway,
Skaos,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Soft Cell,
Main Source,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harry Pussy,
Rhythm & Sound,
Rekid,
Warren Ellis,
Gang of Four,
Silicon Teens,
Eyeless In Gaza,
China Crisis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Joey Negro,
CMW,
F. McDonald,
Big Daddy Kane,
Godley & Creme,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
New York Dolls,
John Foxx,
Barbara Tucker,
Marshall Jefferson,
Wings,
The Star Department,
Sam Rivers,
Pagans,
Gil Scott Heron,
Maleditus Sound,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Music Machine,
Mission of Burma,
Marc Almond,
Arcadia,
John Cale,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Searchers,
Severed Heads,
Average White Band,
The Blackbyrds,
Oneida,
Spoonie Gee,
Magma,
Minutemen,
Jacques Brel,
Minnie Riperton,
Derrick May,
Tomorrow,
Mark Hollis,
Bush Tetras,
The Neon Judgement,
Reuben Wilson,
Pierre Henry,
Inner City,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.