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 Papua New Guinea and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Toasters to the dance 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 Young Marble Giants. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Gang Starr,
The Stooges,
Index,
H. Thieme,
Arab on Radar,
Arcadia,
The Fire Engines,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Fortunes,
Crooked Eye,
The Beau Brummels,
JFA,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Monks,
Ice-T,
Graham Central Station,
the Slits,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Standells,
The Mummies,
The Dirtbombs,
Japan,
Goldenarms,
Suburban Knight,
Max Romeo,
Television Personalities,
the Sonics,
The Techniques,
Cameo,
The Raincoats,
Todd Rundgren,
Terry Callier,
Wolf Eyes,
Bang On A Can,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Buzzcocks,
Al Stewart,
Warsaw,
The Smiths,
Circle Jerks,
Ten City,
Reagan Youth,
The Wake,
Lightning Bolt,
Bluetip,
Half Japanese,
Lakeside,
The Toasters,
Lou Christie,
Judy Mowatt,
Kas Product,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Black Dice,
Bizarre Inc.,
Cecil Taylor,
The Grass Roots,
Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One, Funky Four + One.
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.