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 Angola and from London.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Cecil Taylor to the electroclash 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 Wasted Youth. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Ice-T,
Banda Bassotti,
The Martian,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Radio Birdman,
Main Source,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gang Starr,
H. Thieme,
Crooked Eye,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sex Pistols,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ponytail,
Surgeon,
Underground Resistance,
Shuggie Otis,
The Fortunes,
Pantytec,
Toni Rubio,
Radiopuhelimet,
Gong,
Joy Division,
Fat Boys,
Model 500,
The Standells,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Leaves,
Yusef Lateef,
Anakelly,
OOIOO,
Terry Callier,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Kinks,
Glambeats Corp.,
Arthur Verocai,
Mars,
June Days,
Q and Not U,
Skriet,
Marine Girls,
Malaria!,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mission of Burma,
Barrington Levy,
Au Pairs,
Lakeside,
The Durutti Column,
Unwound,
Quantec,
Alison Limerick,
Interpol,
Piero Umiliani,
The Selecter,
China Crisis,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bluetip,
T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex, T. Rex.
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.