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 Belize and from Houston.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bobby Byrd to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Zero Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Modern Lovers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Public Enemy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
The Last Poets,
Susan Cadogan,
Sight & Sound,
UT,
Rod Modell,
Robert Hood,
Ken Boothe,
Theoretical Girls,
Whodini,
Adolescents,
John Lydon,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Derrick Morgan,
Gang Green,
Chris Corsano,
the Normal,
OOIOO,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Moebius,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Japan,
Colin Newman,
Thee Headcoats,
Lyres,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Human League,
World's Most,
Fad Gadget,
Man Parrish,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jacob Miller,
Spoonie Gee,
Eric Copeland,
Marmalade,
Sound Behaviour,
Jacques Brel,
Symarip,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Harmonia,
Morten Harket,
cv313,
Grandmaster Flash,
Livin' Joy,
Johnny Clarke,
The Fortunes,
Suicide,
Minutemen,
Big Daddy Kane,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Wasted Youth,
Crooked Eye,
Rosa Yemen,
The Trojans,
Aswad,
Arcadia,
Mission of Burma,
Royal Trux,
Technova,
The Red Krayola,
New Order, New Order, New Order, New Order.
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.