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 Marshall Islands and from Tokyo.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 chamberlin 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 Letta Mbulu to the grunge 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Funky Four + One tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Wasted Youth,
Erykah Badu,
Neil Young,
Swans,
Radio Birdman,
Cybotron,
The Raincoats,
Peter & Gordon,
Marmalade,
Joyce Sims,
ABC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Josef K,
H. Thieme,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Eve St. Jones,
Au Pairs,
The Young Rascals,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Byron Stingily,
the Normal,
Marvin Gaye,
Tropical Tobacco,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Circle Jerks,
The United States of America,
Gabor Szabo,
Erasure,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Terry Callier,
Jeff Lynne,
The Saints,
Nils Olav,
Archie Shepp,
Saccharine Trust,
Slick Rick,
Bobby Byrd,
Technova,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Angry Samoans,
Joensuu 1685,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Human League,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gun Club,
The Gories,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
June Days,
Audionom,
The Gladiators,
Shuggie Otis,
Lakeside,
The Trojans,
the Slits,
Bluetip,
The Happenings,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.