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 Grenada and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Theoretical Girls to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Sällskapet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Mars,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Litter,
the Normal,
Porter Ricks,
Matthew Halsall,
The United States of America,
The New Christs,
Lou Reed,
Motorama,
Rod Modell,
Swell Maps,
Isaac Hayes,
Iggy Pop,
Fela Kuti,
The Fire Engines,
Babytalk,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Angels of Light,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Freddie Wadling,
The Shadows of Knight,
Alison Limerick,
World's Most,
Vladislav Delay,
Pole,
Clear Light,
Archie Shepp,
Parry Music,
Procol Harum,
New Age Steppers,
Camberwell Now,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Bluetip,
Joe Smooth,
Tim Buckley,
The American Breed,
Yusef Lateef,
Reagan Youth,
Anakelly,
Chris Corsano,
Unrelated Segments,
Mission of Burma,
the Human League,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Cure,
Radio Birdman,
Electric Prunes,
10cc,
U.S. Maple,
Chris & Cosey,
Eve St. Jones,
Robert Wyatt,
Laurel Aitken,
Jesper Dahlback,
Easy Going,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jeru the Damaja,
Public Enemy,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.