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 Zambia and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
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 Stiv Bators to the grunge 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 Tim Buckley. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
The Names,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Reagan Youth,
Wally Richardson,
John Holt,
Young Marble Giants,
The Golliwogs,
Minutemen,
The Fuzztones,
The Smiths,
The Techniques,
Eddi Front,
Junior Murvin,
The Black Dice,
Malaria!,
The Barracudas,
Symarip,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
T.S.O.L.,
Erykah Badu,
Ponytail,
Depeche Mode,
Talk Talk,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
New Age Steppers,
Lindisfarne,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ultra Naté,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Detroit Cobras,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Frankie Knuckles,
Brass Construction,
Peter and Kerry,
David McCallum,
Shuggie Otis,
Groovy Waters,
Tears for Fears,
Gang Gang Dance,
Massinfluence,
Juan Atkins,
Godley & Creme,
The Birthday Party,
The Evens,
The Monks,
The Leaves,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Brand Nubian,
Bill Wells,
The Slits,
10cc,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Wire,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Eden Ahbez,
Silicon Teens,
Sound Behaviour,
Niagra,
Man Parrish,
The Beau Brummels,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Electric Prunes,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.