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 Slovakia and from Hong Kong.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 James Chance & The Contortions to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
Jeru the Damaja,
H. Thieme,
The Fall,
Laurel Aitken,
Cymande,
Moss Icon,
The Count Five,
Cheater Slicks,
Oneida,
Suburban Knight,
Los Fastidios,
The Dirtbombs,
Popol Vuh,
Rod Modell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mandrill,
Q65,
The Real Kids,
The Monochrome Set,
Joe Finger,
Lakeside,
UT,
Moby Grape,
Theoretical Girls,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Brick,
The Knickerbockers,
The Techniques,
The Durutti Column,
Lou Reed,
Lower 48,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Thee Headcoats,
Blossom Toes,
The Angels of Light,
Lindisfarne,
Flash Fearless,
The Grass Roots,
Gerry Rafferty,
Neil Young,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Vladislav Delay,
T.S.O.L.,
Goldenarms,
The Associates,
Stiv Bators,
Tom Boy,
Arab on Radar,
Matthew Halsall,
Bobby Hutcherson,
L. Decosne,
Intrusion,
Reuben Wilson,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Wire,
Black Sheep,
The Dead C,
Cal Tjader,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Urselle,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo.
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.