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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Names to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Searchers 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marcia Griffiths,
Lyres,
Lee Hazlewood,
Todd Rundgren,
Wasted Youth,
The Cure,
The Move,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Hardrive,
Graham Central Station,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
ABBA,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kenny Larkin,
Malaria!,
John Cale,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Pharoah Sanders,
Johnny Clarke,
The Shadows of Knight,
JFA,
Bad Manners,
The Dead C,
the Association,
Absolute Body Control,
The Divine Comedy,
The Fugs,
In Retrospect,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gap Band,
Roxette,
Excepter,
Blossom Toes,
Scion,
Colin Newman,
Gang Green,
Tres Demented,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Newcleus,
PIL,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soft Machine,
Moss Icon,
the Human League,
OOIOO,
Lucky Dragons,
Television,
Angry Samoans,
Reagan Youth,
the Germs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Carl Craig,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Slave,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Freddie Wadling,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
UT,
Pantytec,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.