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 Kuwait and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Bang On A Can to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Unrelated Segments tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Wasted Youth,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Public Enemy,
Sister Nancy,
The Zeros,
the Association,
Slave,
The Real Kids,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bauhaus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Traffic Nightmare,
La Düsseldorf,
Johnny Clarke,
The Gun Club,
Kerrie Biddell,
Marshall Jefferson,
Ten City,
Monolake,
Graham Central Station,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lyres,
These Immortal Souls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Darondo,
Thee Headcoats,
New Order,
The Fire Engines,
Blossom Toes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Scott Walker,
Crash Course in Science,
Con Funk Shun,
Barbara Tucker,
Quadrant,
Whodini,
Spandau Ballet,
Excepter,
Infiniti,
Massinfluence,
Ponytail,
Sixth Finger,
The Sonics,
Monks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Soul Sonic Force,
Funky Four + One,
Sällskapet,
Yellowson,
Ohio Players,
Outsiders,
Gichy Dan,
Bob Dylan,
Ronan,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Amazonics,
T.S.O.L.,
Blancmange,
Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive, Hardrive.
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.