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 Cyprus and from Lagos.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Minnie Riperton to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smiths,
Sällskapet,
New Order,
Don Cherry,
Peter and Kerry,
Rapeman,
Cameo,
John Holt,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Boz Scaggs,
Black Bananas,
Eric Dolphy,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Blues Magoos,
Bobby Sherman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Country Teasers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tomorrow,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bluetip,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Maurizio,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Patti Smith,
Fad Gadget,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sound,
The American Breed,
Massinfluence,
Silicon Teens,
Black Pus,
Archie Shepp,
Althea and Donna,
Carl Craig,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wasted Youth,
Toni Rubio,
Peter & Gordon,
Brass Construction,
Alison Limerick,
Circle Jerks,
Gang of Four,
Andrew Hill,
Fela Kuti,
kango's stein massive,
The Divine Comedy,
The Move,
Section 25,
Underground Resistance,
Minny Pops,
Ronnie Foster,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mo-Dettes,
Joensuu 1685,
The Birthday Party,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.