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 Cuba and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Flipper to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Connie Case. All the underground hits.
All Beasts of Bourbon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mark Hollis,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Iggy Pop,
Gang of Four,
The Dave Clark Five,
Surgeon,
Bush Tetras,
Bobby Womack,
Minutemen,
Audionom,
Kas Product,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Saints,
Agitation Free,
Arcadia,
Y Pants,
Harmonia,
Henry Cow,
Sandy B,
Albert Ayler,
Bootsy Collins,
Black Moon,
Pet Shop Boys,
Rufus Thomas,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Swans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Glenn Branca,
Big Daddy Kane,
Nirvana,
Eurythmics,
Make Up,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Pere Ubu,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gastr Del Sol,
Silicon Teens,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Slits,
Masters at Work,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sound,
the Slits,
Blancmange,
Lower 48,
U.S. Maple,
The Divine Comedy,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Danielle Patucci,
Eric Copeland,
Don Cherry,
Pharoah Sanders,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Yazoo,
Wings,
F. McDonald,
Piero Umiliani,
The Grass Roots,
Hoover, Hoover, Hoover, Hoover.
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.