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 Congo and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Michael McDonald 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 Be Bop Deluxe to the rap 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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Swans 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Prince Buster,
Depeche Mode,
Peter and Kerry,
In Retrospect,
Dead Boys,
June of 44,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Reuben Wilson,
Bill Wells,
Surgeon,
Model 500,
the Sonics,
Kerrie Biddell,
Quadrant,
Shuggie Otis,
X-102,
The Happenings,
Lower 48,
Joyce Sims,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Main Source,
Intrusion,
Donny Hathaway,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Matthew Bourne,
Chris & Cosey,
the Association,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jawbox,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Trumans Water,
Electric Light Orchestra,
kango's stein massive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Wings,
Harmonia,
Essential Logic,
Moebius,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Tres Demented,
FM Einheit,
The Music Machine,
Dark Day,
Cameo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
E-Dancer,
Scientists,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
R.M.O.,
Skarface,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Fuzztones,
The Dead C,
Skaos,
Steve Hackett,
The Knickerbockers,
Archie Shepp,
Japan,
The Modern Lovers,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.