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 Argentina and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 Country Teasers 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 Wings. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Albert Ayler,
X-Ray Spex,
The Remains,
the Germs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Neu!,
the Normal,
PIL,
The Busters,
Aswad,
Electric Prunes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Amon Düül,
Hardrive,
Barbara Tucker,
Don Cherry,
The Beau Brummels,
Mr. Review,
Tim Buckley,
Smog,
Stockholm Monsters,
Unwound,
Crime,
One Last Wish,
Laurel Aitken,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
DNA,
David Bowie,
Gang Gang Dance,
X-101,
The Evens,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cybotron,
Drexciya,
Spandau Ballet,
Sugar Minott,
Derrick Morgan,
Nik Kershaw,
Andrew Hill,
Hot Snakes,
Hashim,
Idris Muhammad,
Lou Christie,
The Tremeloes,
Excepter,
Nirvana,
Rod Modell,
The Knickerbockers,
Goldenarms,
Wolf Eyes,
Section 25,
Magma,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Massinfluence,
Eve St. Jones,
Malaria!,
Rosa Yemen,
Junior Murvin,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Janne Schatter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.