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 Kiribati 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 Tokyo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Malaria!. All the underground hits.
All Susan Cadogan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Intrusion 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ituana,
Severed Heads,
Barbara Tucker,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lightning Bolt,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Harry Pussy,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Skatalites,
Rod Modell,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Sisters of Mercy,
World's Most,
Kurtis Blow,
The Shadows of Knight,
This Heat,
Echospace,
Underground Resistance,
FM Einheit,
Bauhaus,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Sonics,
the Association,
Alison Limerick,
Animal Collective,
Fat Boys,
Althea and Donna,
Gabor Szabo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Divine Comedy,
Brick,
UT,
The Star Department,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Tears for Fears,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Al Stewart,
Suicide,
Robert Görl,
Arthur Verocai,
Jesper Dahlback,
Los Fastidios,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Moebius,
Eric Copeland,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Black Dice,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Neon Judgement,
Sandy B,
CMW,
MC5,
David Axelrod,
The Vogues,
Yellowson,
Smog,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Don Cherry,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Whodini,
Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp, Archie Shepp.
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.