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 Jamaica and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Lou Reed & John Cale to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rhythm & Sound,
Ornette Coleman,
Bob Dylan,
Kenny Larkin,
The Real Kids,
Tears for Fears,
Moby Grape,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eden Ahbez,
Symarip,
Johnny Clarke,
Das Ding,
Eric Dolphy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Stiv Bators,
The Smiths,
Sällskapet,
Black Moon,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gang Starr,
Kerrie Biddell,
Suicide,
Blossom Toes,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Golliwogs,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Slackers,
The Invisible,
Au Pairs,
Section 25,
Marine Girls,
Gichy Dan,
Cheater Slicks,
Nik Kershaw,
Pierre Henry,
48th St. Collective,
Idris Muhammad,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bronski Beat,
Ludus,
The Gun Club,
China Crisis,
Make Up,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Faust,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Henry Cow,
These Immortal Souls,
Glenn Branca,
Severed Heads,
Ken Boothe,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wally Richardson,
The Standells,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nirvana,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.