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 Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 spring reverb 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 Fugs to the crunk 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Albert Ayler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Surgeon,
The Divine Comedy,
Deakin,
Mars,
Boz Scaggs,
Underground Resistance,
Delta 5,
Tears for Fears,
Sister Nancy,
Shoche,
a-ha,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Cramps,
Shuggie Otis,
Hasil Adkins,
Silicon Teens,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kas Product,
Hot Snakes,
H. Thieme,
Brick,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cabaret Voltaire,
One Last Wish,
Nils Olav,
Don Cherry,
Wally Richardson,
Girls At Our Best!,
Reagan Youth,
Sound Behaviour,
Kool Moe Dee,
Crime,
The Raincoats,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gang of Four,
Faraquet,
The Kinks,
Bobby Womack,
Grauzone,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Banda Bassotti,
The Residents,
Tres Demented,
Sugar Minott,
The Busters,
Qualms,
Chris & Cosey,
Roy Ayers,
The Star Department,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Neil Young,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Monks,
Josef K,
Lou Christie,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.