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 Burundi and from New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Connie Case to the crunk 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All Louis and Bebe Barron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Shadows of Knight,
Blancmange,
ABBA,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Glambeats Corp.,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
Radiohead,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Royal Trux,
Roger Hodgson,
The Toasters,
Lyres,
Pagans,
Y Pants,
John Coltrane,
Neu!,
Funky Four + One,
Hasil Adkins,
Jacob Miller,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Procol Harum,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Sonics,
Pussy Galore,
Brick,
The Busters,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wasted Youth,
Icehouse,
Sun City Girls,
Black Bananas,
Sparks,
John Holt,
Jacques Brel,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Glenn Branca,
K-Klass,
Godley & Creme,
Aaron Thompson,
Minor Threat,
Eric Copeland,
Rekid,
Porter Ricks,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Audionom,
The United States of America,
Siglo XX,
Sarah Menescal,
T.S.O.L.,
Jandek,
Rapeman,
Gang Green,
kango's stein massive,
Excepter,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Boredoms,
Susan Cadogan,
Lindisfarne,
Depeche Mode,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.