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 Yemen and from Toronto.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Jesus and Mary Chain to the funk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Lakeside,
Delon & Dalcan,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rhythm & Sound,
Aaron Thompson,
Terry Callier,
Colin Newman,
The Searchers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Velvet Underground,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Evens,
Connie Case,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gil Scott Heron,
Livin' Joy,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Electric Prunes,
OOIOO,
Eric Dolphy,
Icehouse,
Junior Murvin,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Goldenarms,
Blancmange,
Reagan Youth,
Thompson Twins,
Brand Nubian,
Rod Modell,
Cal Tjader,
Prince Buster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bush Tetras,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Neon Judgement,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sonic Youth,
Inner City,
Vladislav Delay,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Heaven 17,
John Cale,
Harmonia,
The J.B.'s,
Boz Scaggs,
Faraquet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Porter Ricks,
Fugazi,
The Monks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lyres,
Joe Finger,
Loose Ends,
Black Pus,
Von Mondo,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.