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 Brazil 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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin 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 Qualms to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scott Walker + Sunn O))) record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Model 500,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Fall,
The Move,
Al Stewart,
Cluster,
The Monks,
The Black Dice,
Brothers Johnson,
Excepter,
The Electric Prunes,
Malaria!,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Modern Lovers,
The Fugs,
Alice Coltrane,
The Dirtbombs,
KRS-One,
Bush Tetras,
Gong,
Pagans,
New Order,
Sixth Finger,
Babytalk,
Gil Scott Heron,
Suburban Knight,
These Immortal Souls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Aloha Tigers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Boz Scaggs,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
F. McDonald,
Letta Mbulu,
Essential Logic,
Pulsallama,
Godley & Creme,
The Gories,
Judy Mowatt,
Goldenarms,
Wasted Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Zeros,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sound Behaviour,
Inner City,
Dawn Penn,
Zapp,
Magazine,
Minnie Riperton,
Pylon,
The Raincoats,
Nirvana,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Victims,
Thompson Twins,
Theoretical Girls,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.