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 Finland 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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Soul II Soul to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Parry Music,
The Neon Judgement,
Maleditus Sound,
Grauzone,
Talk Talk,
Country Teasers,
Ten City,
Nirvana,
Pere Ubu,
Judy Mowatt,
Pulsallama,
Mantronix,
Scion,
Eddi Front,
T. Rex,
Wire,
Piero Umiliani,
The Dirtbombs,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Music Machine,
E-Dancer,
Kerri Chandler,
The Red Krayola,
Boz Scaggs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Star Department,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rufus Thomas,
Amon Düül II,
Jeff Mills,
Scrapy,
Kurtis Blow,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
10cc,
Panda Bear,
Arthur Verocai,
Sister Nancy,
Can,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Andrew Hill,
June of 44,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Sonics,
Joy Division,
the Germs,
Drive Like Jehu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jacques Brel,
Ultra Naté,
Fear,
Jawbox,
Alice Coltrane,
Man Parrish,
Moss Icon,
Nico,
The Real Kids,
Matthew Halsall,
The Durutti Column,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.