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 Vietnam and from London.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Smiths to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barry Ungar record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Jeru the Damaja,
K-Klass,
The Vogues,
H. Thieme,
Radiohead,
Crash Course in Science,
Livin' Joy,
Qualms,
Hardrive,
FM Einheit,
Japan,
The Fuzztones,
Vainqueur,
Amon Düül,
Iggy Pop,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Minny Pops,
A Certain Ratio,
Interpol,
The Mojo Men,
Electric Prunes,
Wings,
Toni Rubio,
Albert Ayler,
Sight & Sound,
Can,
Von Mondo,
Dawn Penn,
Aswad,
Lalo Schifrin,
Johnny Clarke,
Jimmy McGriff,
Arcadia,
Matthew Halsall,
Black Pus,
Rufus Thomas,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
EPMD,
Prince Buster,
Gang of Four,
Lungfish,
Susan Cadogan,
Depeche Mode,
Swans,
Black Moon,
Patti Smith,
Amon Düül II,
Man Parrish,
Fear,
Al Stewart,
Lower 48,
Cameo,
The Offenders,
Roger Hodgson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Black Sheep,
Absolute Body Control,
Letta Mbulu,
Schoolly D,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.