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 Guyana and from Mexico City.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 This Heat to the punk 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 Joe Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Ituana,
Byron Stingily,
The Durutti Column,
Connie Case,
Derrick May,
The Toasters,
Maleditus Sound,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
John Holt,
Gang Gang Dance,
Zero Boys,
Stereo Dub,
Jerry's Kids,
Supertramp,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Litter,
Ponytail,
Crime,
Kenny Larkin,
Angry Samoans,
The Wake,
the Normal,
Albert Ayler,
Crispy Ambulance,
Negative Approach,
The Leaves,
Skaos,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ossler,
Reagan Youth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Brick,
Eric Dolphy,
Soft Machine,
Todd Terry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Heaven 17,
The Invisible,
Public Enemy,
The Doors,
Lou Christie,
The Moody Blues,
Robert Wyatt,
Robert Görl,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pantytec,
Suicide,
Jacques Brel,
Ultravox,
Alphaville,
Jimmy McGriff,
Boogie Down Productions,
Minutemen,
AZ,
Jacob Miller,
a-ha,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.