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 Qatar and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the punk 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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
David Bowie,
X-102,
Letta Mbulu,
Dead Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
L. Decosne,
Nirvana,
Fad Gadget,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joey Negro,
The Detroit Cobras,
Piero Umiliani,
The Offenders,
The Blackbyrds,
Ludus,
World's Most,
Bobby Womack,
Lindisfarne,
Roxy Music,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mad Mike,
The Leaves,
Pagans,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Music Machine,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jandek,
John Lydon,
Duran Duran,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Laurel Aitken,
R.M.O.,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Blues Magoos,
Neu!,
a-ha,
The Barracudas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Prince Buster,
Intrusion,
Clear Light,
Hasil Adkins,
Masters at Work,
Radio Birdman,
Max Romeo,
Rod Modell,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sandy B,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Smog,
Soulsonic Force,
The Standells,
The Cramps,
Nation of Ulysses,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
June Days,
Angry Samoans,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.