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 Tuvalu and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Paris.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the güiro 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 Ossler to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Five Americans. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Susan Cadogan,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Sound,
Icehouse,
AZ,
Ronnie Foster,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pylon,
Jandek,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jacob Miller,
Gabor Szabo,
Angry Samoans,
Severed Heads,
The Buckinghams,
Connie Case,
Maleditus Sound,
Althea and Donna,
Mark Hollis,
Barrington Levy,
Mr. Review,
Erykah Badu,
Prince Buster,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Roxy Music,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Lightning Bolt,
The Doors,
Erasure,
Negative Approach,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun City Girls,
Television,
Marcia Griffiths,
Desert Stars,
KRS-One,
Cabaret Voltaire,
DJ Sneak,
Black Moon,
ABBA,
Whodini,
Boredoms,
John Coltrane,
the Sonics,
Dennis Brown,
Eric Copeland,
Ornette Coleman,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eve St. Jones,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Gun Club,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rosa Yemen,
Stiv Bators,
the Normal,
Ken Boothe,
a-ha,
Moby Grape,
Second Layer,
Amazonics,
Nik Kershaw,
Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force, Soulsonic Force.
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.