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 Guatemala and from Delhi.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 R.M.O. to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Second Layer,
Severed Heads,
Glenn Branca,
The Saints,
The Slits,
Metal Thangz,
Camouflage,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Moody Blues,
Delon & Dalcan,
Arcadia,
Fad Gadget,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Matthew Halsall,
Suicide,
Tears for Fears,
The Black Dice,
Sexual Harrassment,
Los Fastidios,
Echospace,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mantronix,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Trojans,
X-102,
Spoonie Gee,
Vladislav Delay,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Reagan Youth,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wings,
A Certain Ratio,
Japan,
Kayak,
the Sonics,
The Human League,
Toni Rubio,
The Moleskins,
Quando Quango,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Rakim,
DJ Sneak,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Organ,
H. Thieme,
Bill Near,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Cure,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wasted Youth,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Grass Roots,
Kool Moe Dee,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Motorama,
Gang of Four,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.