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 Azerbaijan and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes 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 the Germs to the dance 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Warren Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gian Franco Pienzio 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David McCallum record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dirtbombs,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kayak,
These Immortal Souls,
Fugazi,
Index,
Throbbing Gristle,
Warsaw,
The Leaves,
The Sound,
Janne Schatter,
Robert Wyatt,
John Lydon,
Black Bananas,
LL Cool J,
Wasted Youth,
T.S.O.L.,
The Five Americans,
Joensuu 1685,
Prince Buster,
Lungfish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rufus Thomas,
The Fugs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hoover,
Zapp,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Real Kids,
Crooked Eye,
Crispy Ambulance,
Brass Construction,
Ronnie Foster,
Crash Course in Science,
Ronan,
The Alarm Clocks,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Reagan Youth,
Bill Wells,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Slits,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Lindisfarne,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Dave Clark Five,
Matthew Halsall,
Franke,
La Düsseldorf,
The J.B.'s,
Mo-Dettes,
Boogie Down Productions,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Qualms,
Swell Maps,
Basic Channel,
Moby Grape,
Clear Light,
Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth, Sonic Youth.
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.