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 Angola and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 R.M.O. to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
Iggy Pop,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Saints,
The Barracudas,
Fela Kuti,
Boredoms,
Anthony Braxton,
cv313,
CMW,
Faust,
Gang Green,
Marc Almond,
Tubeway Army,
La Düsseldorf,
The Smoke,
Bill Near,
The Techniques,
Cluster,
Roger Hodgson,
Mission of Burma,
Janne Schatter,
Young Marble Giants,
10cc,
Marmalade,
Technova,
Altered Images,
Severed Heads,
Au Pairs,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Fire Engines,
Zapp,
The Cosmic Jokers,
B.T. Express,
The Index,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Johnny Osbourne,
UT,
Massinfluence,
Radiohead,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Standells,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sex Pistols,
LL Cool J,
Pole,
Black Pus,
Mark Hollis,
R.M.O.,
Tres Demented,
John Coltrane,
Anakelly,
The Mummies,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Henry Cow,
the Swans,
The Buckinghams,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Blossom Toes,
Marine Girls,
Byron Stingily,
The Searchers,
X-102,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.