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 Gambia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sparks to the techno 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 The Buckinghams. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Desert Stars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mo-Dettes,
Flash Fearless,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Essential Logic,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Circle Jerks,
Camouflage,
Deakin,
Bauhaus,
Dorothy Ashby,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Fania All-Stars,
Neu!,
Tubeway Army,
Yazoo,
The Grass Roots,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marine Girls,
Dual Sessions,
Moby Grape,
Black Flag,
Sex Pistols,
The Martian,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
John Coltrane,
Marmalade,
The Velvet Underground,
the Germs,
Swell Maps,
Gang Green,
The Fugs,
Eden Ahbez,
The Smiths,
Grandmaster Flash,
Steve Hackett,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
H. Thieme,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gang of Four,
Rapeman,
The Barracudas,
Girls At Our Best!,
A Certain Ratio,
Dark Day,
Average White Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Agent Orange,
Bizarre Inc.,
Pagans,
Freddie Wadling,
Amazonics,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boredoms,
Pere Ubu,
Sonic Youth,
Faust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
KRS-One,
Scan 7,
Bobby Byrd,
Pantaleimon,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.