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 East Timor and from Woodstock.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Aural Exciters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Country Joe & The Fish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Spandau Ballet,
Visage,
Unrelated Segments,
Althea and Donna,
Heaven 17,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Surgeon,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Matthew Halsall,
David McCallum,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Liliput,
Parry Music,
Warren Ellis,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Lydon,
Tres Demented,
Deepchord,
Peter & Gordon,
Anakelly,
Outsiders,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
DJ Sneak,
Man Eating Sloth,
Goldenarms,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Red Krayola,
Arthur Verocai,
Circle Jerks,
The Saints,
Jandek,
Joyce Sims,
Can,
China Crisis,
Bill Near,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mad Mike,
Eurythmics,
Angry Samoans,
Sun Ra,
Mission of Burma,
Tom Boy,
the Slits,
Swell Maps,
kango's stein massive,
Rites of Spring,
Reuben Wilson,
The Young Rascals,
Desert Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Siglo XX,
Khruangbin,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Bobby Sherman,
Roxette,
Hoover,
Bad Manners,
Blossom Toes,
Agitation Free,
Icehouse,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.