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 Mongolia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Royal Family And The Poor 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Bang On A Can,
Magazine,
The Star Department,
Index,
Hashim,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Marine Girls,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
kango's stein massive,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nick Fraelich,
Judy Mowatt,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Kinks,
Whodini,
Blake Baxter,
The Young Rascals,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pierre Henry,
Yellowson,
Kenny Larkin,
The Buckinghams,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Siglo XX,
E-Dancer,
Rosa Yemen,
PIL,
H. Thieme,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Jawbox,
ABC,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Flesh Eaters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Throbbing Gristle,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tom Boy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Qualms,
Pylon,
Mantronix,
Public Image Ltd.,
John Holt,
Visage,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Toni Rubio,
Fluxion,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Angry Samoans,
Reagan Youth,
Brand Nubian,
Graham Central Station,
Sex Pistols,
Fad Gadget,
Swans,
The Walker Brothers,
Essential Logic,
Gong,
Youth Brigade,
CMW,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.