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 Marshall Islands and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Crooked Eye to the grunge 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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Spandau Ballet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arcadia,
Model 500,
New Age Steppers,
Gichy Dan,
Albert Ayler,
Q65,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Fall,
Porter Ricks,
The Move,
Negative Approach,
La Düsseldorf,
Rotary Connection,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bootsy Collins,
Visage,
The Black Dice,
Stetsasonic,
Freddie Wadling,
Andrew Hill,
Panda Bear,
Moebius,
X-101,
the Swans,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nils Olav,
Isaac Hayes,
Pere Ubu,
Bush Tetras,
Terry Callier,
Stiv Bators,
Sällskapet,
Maleditus Sound,
Little Man,
The Techniques,
kango's stein massive,
Scrapy,
Audionom,
Infiniti,
Robert Wyatt,
Au Pairs,
the Slits,
Aural Exciters,
Crispy Ambulance,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jesper Dahlback,
Qualms,
Throbbing Gristle,
Laurel Aitken,
Hot Snakes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Amon Düül II,
Electric Prunes,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Stereo Dub,
Half Japanese,
R.M.O.,
The Smoke,
Susan Cadogan,
Gang of Four,
The Standells,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.