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 Bolivia and from Tehran.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Freddie Wadling to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nirvana. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Aloha Tigers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anthony Braxton,
Crime,
Mandrill,
Amon Düül,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
June of 44,
Derrick Morgan,
Chris Corsano,
U.S. Maple,
FM Einheit,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Parry Music,
Kayak,
Pole,
Lindisfarne,
Mark Hollis,
Pere Ubu,
The Skatalites,
the Slits,
Max Romeo,
Sällskapet,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Gun Club,
The Busters,
Smog,
Vainqueur,
Harmonia,
Public Enemy,
Henry Cow,
Qualms,
Black Moon,
Newcleus,
UT,
The Remains,
Thompson Twins,
Sugar Minott,
Robert Wyatt,
A Certain Ratio,
The Dead C,
the Normal,
Second Layer,
OOIOO,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nirvana,
Japan,
Aural Exciters,
Little Man,
Camouflage,
Inner City,
Chris & Cosey,
Faust,
The Last Poets,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Groovy Waters,
Simply Red,
Joe Smooth,
Alphaville,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Hasil Adkins,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.