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 Lebanon and from Portland.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Nile Rodgers 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 The Residents to the techno 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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispian St. Peters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Franke,
Hoover,
Heaven 17,
The Vogues,
Pierre Henry,
Joyce Sims,
Josef K,
The Index,
Alphaville,
Nico,
These Immortal Souls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Yusef Lateef,
Sandy B,
The Trojans,
Rosa Yemen,
Sun Ra,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang Starr,
Warren Ellis,
Aswad,
Scientists,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Fall,
F. McDonald,
Neil Young,
Con Funk Shun,
Mantronix,
Drive Like Jehu,
Underground Resistance,
Bauhaus,
Audionom,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Suicide,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fad Gadget,
Procol Harum,
Nirvana,
Spandau Ballet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Gil Scott Heron,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Scratch Acid,
Zero Boys,
Quando Quango,
Gichy Dan,
Pantaleimon,
Barry Ungar,
The Moleskins,
The Seeds,
Graham Central Station,
A Certain Ratio,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Urselle,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Leaves,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Thee Headcoats,
Aaron Thompson,
Grey Daturas,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.