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 Iraq and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 PIL to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Black Bananas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slits,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Music Machine,
Wasted Youth,
Magma,
Lightning Bolt,
Bootsy Collins,
Intrusion,
The Mojo Men,
Quantec,
Pantaleimon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Skatalites,
Alton Ellis,
Young Marble Giants,
Kurtis Blow,
Black Sheep,
B.T. Express,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kas Product,
the Normal,
Public Image Ltd.,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gun Club,
Nas,
Warsaw,
Sound Behaviour,
Skarface,
Dead Boys,
Aaron Thompson,
Jerry's Kids,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tres Demented,
Camouflage,
Angry Samoans,
Parry Music,
The Wake,
Ultra Naté,
The Five Americans,
Black Flag,
The Happenings,
Interpol,
This Heat,
Derrick Morgan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Glambeats Corp.,
Maurizio,
Hasil Adkins,
The Names,
The Cure,
Unrelated Segments,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Divine Comedy,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Fall,
Magazine,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.