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 Taiwan and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Black Sheep. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sarah Menescal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
New York Dolls,
Joyce Sims,
David Axelrod,
Wolf Eyes,
The Remains,
U.S. Maple,
The Kinks,
John Holt,
These Immortal Souls,
Yusef Lateef,
Suburban Knight,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Amon Düül,
The Birthday Party,
the Swans,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Misunderstood,
The Mummies,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Blues Magoos,
The Music Machine,
Brass Construction,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Liliput,
Scientists,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Dark Day,
The Dave Clark Five,
Pierre Henry,
June of 44,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Loose Ends,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gerry Rafferty,
Make Up,
Excepter,
ABBA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
E-Dancer,
Girls At Our Best!,
Slick Rick,
Pantaleimon,
Warsaw,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bluetip,
Spoonie Gee,
Intrusion,
Curtis Mayfield,
Harry Pussy,
Ornette Coleman,
Matthew Bourne,
Nirvana,
Siglo XX,
Inner City,
Reagan Youth,
The Moody Blues,
Davy DMX,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.