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 Ghana and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar 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 Drexciya to the grunge 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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Monks,
Curtis Mayfield,
Nik Kershaw,
John Holt,
Tres Demented,
the Swans,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Grey Daturas,
Gabor Szabo,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Letta Mbulu,
Buzzcocks,
Eric Copeland,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ultravox,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rakim,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
Animal Collective,
Rites of Spring,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Blackbyrds,
Josef K,
Godley & Creme,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Happenings,
Crime,
New York Dolls,
Anthony Braxton,
Black Pus,
10cc,
Eli Mardock,
Outsiders,
Sun Ra,
Monolake,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cybotron,
Howard Jones,
Crispian St. Peters,
ABC,
Thompson Twins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Steve Hackett,
KRS-One,
Japan,
Procol Harum,
A Certain Ratio,
Sandy B,
Eric Dolphy,
Davy DMX,
Marcia Griffiths,
Barbara Tucker,
Saccharine Trust,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Von Mondo,
The Busters,
Cluster,
Television Personalities,
Unwound, Unwound, Unwound, Unwound.
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.