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 Syria and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 chamberlin 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 48th St. Collective to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every PIL record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jandek,
The Offenders,
The Human League,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Techniques,
Angry Samoans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Interpol,
Robert Hood,
Robert Wyatt,
Spoonie Gee,
Saccharine Trust,
Davy DMX,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Y Pants,
Malaria!,
Prince Buster,
Eric Dolphy,
The Saints,
Marcia Griffiths,
New Order,
One Last Wish,
Circle Jerks,
Masters at Work,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Skatalites,
The Divine Comedy,
Zapp,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jerry's Kids,
H. Thieme,
Alison Limerick,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Faust,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Reagan Youth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Laurel Aitken,
Mo-Dettes,
Mark Hollis,
China Crisis,
The Tremeloes,
Magma,
The Red Krayola,
Peter & Gordon,
Liliput,
Accadde A,
Gerry Rafferty,
Magazine,
The Names,
Todd Terry,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Skarface,
the Normal,
Blake Baxter,
FM Einheit,
Lungfish,
Tim Buckley,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.