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 Equatorial Guinea and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba 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 Stetsasonic to the disco 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Interpol,
B.T. Express,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Roger Hodgson,
Dual Sessions,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Marc Almond,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Searchers,
Dawn Penn,
Soul Sonic Force,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Niagra,
Mr. Review,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Alphaville,
The Happenings,
Scion,
Desert Stars,
Drexciya,
Circle Jerks,
The Motions,
Scrapy,
Deepchord,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Boredoms,
Monolake,
New Age Steppers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dennis Brown,
Bobby Byrd,
Marine Girls,
Quantec,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bobby Sherman,
Parry Music,
Kas Product,
The Techniques,
The Smoke,
Todd Rundgren,
Procol Harum,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Leonard Cohen,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Thee Headcoats,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The United States of America,
Rites of Spring,
Roxy Music,
Skaos,
Pantytec,
Neil Young,
Sixth Finger,
Yusef Lateef,
Pylon,
Danielle Patucci,
Arab on Radar,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.