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 Gambia and from Accra.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 John Foxx to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All The Pretty Things tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
Index,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Leaves,
Nas,
Underground Resistance,
L. Decosne,
Stetsasonic,
Desert Stars,
The Velvet Underground,
Negative Approach,
James White and The Blacks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rekid,
Faraquet,
Eden Ahbez,
Warsaw,
The Motions,
Electric Prunes,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fluxion,
Subhumans,
The Zeros,
Sällskapet,
Section 25,
Khruangbin,
Ornette Coleman,
The New Christs,
Albert Ayler,
Hardrive,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sam Rivers,
Depeche Mode,
Arcadia,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gong,
Vladislav Delay,
kango's stein massive,
Sex Pistols,
Eli Mardock,
Kaleidoscope,
Aural Exciters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Make Up,
John Lydon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gichy Dan,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Blues Magoos,
Scientists,
The Angels of Light,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Scion,
The Red Krayola,
Wings,
Pantytec,
Minny Pops,
New Age Steppers,
Jacob Miller,
The Smiths,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.