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 Peru and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 guitar 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 John Foxx. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blackbyrds,
Wasted Youth,
John Cale,
Kevin Saunderson,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Banda Bassotti,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Detroit Cobras,
Moebius,
Circle Jerks,
Frankie Knuckles,
FM Einheit,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
UT,
Black Bananas,
Severed Heads,
The Fuzztones,
The Cramps,
Bobby Byrd,
Accadde A,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mission of Burma,
Mo-Dettes,
Visage,
Inner City,
the Swans,
Josef K,
The Fire Engines,
The Misunderstood,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rekid,
Soft Cell,
Sandy B,
Ossler,
U.S. Maple,
Yusef Lateef,
Black Flag,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
8 Eyed Spy,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pere Ubu,
Pantaleimon,
David Axelrod,
The United States of America,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Newcleus,
Ronnie Foster,
Vladislav Delay,
Jimmy McGriff,
Barclay James Harvest,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fad Gadget,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Section 25,
Sparks,
Black Pus,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Second Layer,
Bobby Sherman,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.