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 Greece and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 clarinet 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 Minutemen to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 the Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a JFA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Godley & Creme,
The Detroit Cobras,
Masters at Work,
The Blues Magoos,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Cramps,
Cheater Slicks,
Cluster,
Terry Callier,
Tubeway Army,
Bill Wells,
Animal Collective,
The Toasters,
Surgeon,
The Zeros,
The Fire Engines,
The Litter,
Joey Negro,
Lalann,
Silicon Teens,
Joe Finger,
Royal Trux,
the Bar-Kays,
Archie Shepp,
Crash Course in Science,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sister Nancy,
Aaron Thompson,
Funky Four + One,
Bootsy Collins,
Sight & Sound,
Deadbeat,
Pulsallama,
Alice Coltrane,
the Swans,
the Slits,
Gregory Isaacs,
Leonard Cohen,
Average White Band,
F. McDonald,
Agent Orange,
Robert Wyatt,
The Real Kids,
The Gories,
Ice-T,
Bill Near,
Dark Day,
The Saints,
Scratch Acid,
K-Klass,
The Names,
Chrome,
Spandau Ballet,
Flipper,
Black Sheep,
R.M.O.,
Neil Young,
Grey Daturas,
Scion,
Moss Icon,
Sun City Girls,
Livin' Joy,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.