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 Burundi and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Selecter to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth 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 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lindisfarne,
Agitation Free,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Scott Walker,
Moby Grape,
Tropical Tobacco,
Niagra,
Dark Day,
Marmalade,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ultravox,
Eve St. Jones,
Easy Going,
Joey Negro,
Hot Snakes,
Skriet,
Crash Course in Science,
Hashim,
Sun City Girls,
Dave Gahan,
the Human League,
The Velvet Underground,
Maleditus Sound,
The Names,
a-ha,
The Smiths,
Fela Kuti,
the Soft Cell,
Dual Sessions,
The American Breed,
The Barracudas,
Subhumans,
Todd Terry,
The Toasters,
Derrick Morgan,
Yaz,
Maurizio,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Young Marble Giants,
Quadrant,
Steve Hackett,
Girls At Our Best!,
Tubeway Army,
Lee Hazlewood,
Archie Shepp,
Gil Scott Heron,
Von Mondo,
The Litter,
Bauhaus,
Sex Pistols,
Tim Buckley,
Morten Harket,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Nirvana,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ornette Coleman,
Junior Murvin,
The Evens,
Minutemen,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.