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 Luxembourg and from Sao Paulo.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 James White and The Blacks to the rap 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 The Fugs. All the underground hits.
All Aloha Tigers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Danielle Patucci record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Dead Boys,
Soft Cell,
KRS-One,
Intrusion,
New Order,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Niagra,
Chrome,
Monks,
Magma,
Guru Guru,
Carl Craig,
Hashim,
Quadrant,
Rufus Thomas,
E-Dancer,
Crispy Ambulance,
Khruangbin,
The Fortunes,
Marcia Griffiths,
James White and The Blacks,
Kerri Chandler,
Matthew Bourne,
John Lydon,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tomorrow,
Barrington Levy,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Roy Ayers,
The Star Department,
Accadde A,
Rakim,
Gregory Isaacs,
Aural Exciters,
Kurtis Blow,
The Buckinghams,
X-101,
Little Man,
The Litter,
The Divine Comedy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Peter and Kerry,
Gabor Szabo,
The Beau Brummels,
Hardrive,
Heaven 17,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Pus,
Tom Boy,
Con Funk Shun,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Robert Görl,
Liliput,
Dave Gahan,
Scratch Acid,
F. McDonald,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.