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 Papua New Guinea and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 Portland and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 United States of America to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Nirvana,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jandek,
Babytalk,
Excepter,
Cecil Taylor,
Skarface,
kango's stein massive,
The Tremeloes,
Kool Moe Dee,
The New Christs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
F. McDonald,
Glenn Branca,
Prince Buster,
Radio Birdman,
Von Mondo,
Bluetip,
B.T. Express,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Albert Ayler,
The Angels of Light,
Clear Light,
Intrusion,
Outsiders,
Jacques Brel,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Walker Brothers,
Quando Quango,
David Axelrod,
T. Rex,
Kerri Chandler,
Khruangbin,
Roger Hodgson,
Byron Stingily,
The Durutti Column,
Eddi Front,
Brothers Johnson,
the Soft Cell,
ABBA,
Silicon Teens,
Saccharine Trust,
Maleditus Sound,
Marshall Jefferson,
Faust,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Alice Coltrane,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Vainqueur,
The Trojans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lightning Bolt,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Subhumans,
Stereo Dub,
Scientists,
Reuben Wilson,
Graham Central Station,
Thompson Twins,
The Last Poets,
the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars, the Fania All-Stars.
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.