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 Senegal and from Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Black Flag to the dance 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 Joyce Sims. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minnie Riperton 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 a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Can,
Bobby Sherman,
Gang Gang Dance,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Television,
Janne Schatter,
Barry Ungar,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
B.T. Express,
Susan Cadogan,
Matthew Halsall,
Excepter,
Carl Craig,
John Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Darondo,
Monks,
The Mummies,
Agent Orange,
Alison Limerick,
Visage,
Little Man,
Robert Hood,
Crooked Eye,
the Swans,
The J.B.'s,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Piero Umiliani,
The Standells,
The Residents,
Dave Gahan,
Leonard Cohen,
Ice-T,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Robert Görl,
Mary Jane Girls,
Scientists,
The Misunderstood,
Nico,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Index,
Second Layer,
The Vogues,
John Foxx,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Joensuu 1685,
Cal Tjader,
DNA,
Infiniti,
The Blues Magoos,
Panda Bear,
Massinfluence,
Gang Green,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Beau Brummels,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.