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 Andorra and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Anthony Braxton to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rotary Connection. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eli Mardock record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang On A Can,
the Swans,
Bobby Sherman,
Yellowson,
The Moleskins,
DNA,
Scion,
The Monks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Byrd,
Kas Product,
Dual Sessions,
Popol Vuh,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Martian,
Rufus Thomas,
The Wake,
The Blues Magoos,
The Velvet Underground,
Animal Collective,
Pussy Galore,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
David Axelrod,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Silicon Teens,
Lakeside,
Patti Smith,
Cameo,
Radiohead,
X-101,
Intrusion,
Alice Coltrane,
Khruangbin,
The Gladiators,
Slave,
Grey Daturas,
DJ Sneak,
Radio Birdman,
Arthur Verocai,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Guru Guru,
The Victims,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Cramps,
Yaz,
Toni Rubio,
Wire,
Franke,
Magazine,
A Certain Ratio,
Banda Bassotti,
Adolescents,
Underground Resistance,
Soul II Soul,
Iggy Pop,
The Dirtbombs,
Piero Umiliani,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
OOIOO,
FM Einheit,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
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.