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 Uzbekistan and from Portland.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ 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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jandek record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Pretty Things,
Jeru the Damaja,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
Duran Duran,
U.S. Maple,
The Misunderstood,
Shoche,
Second Layer,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
La Düsseldorf,
Lyres,
Zapp,
Peter & Gordon,
Motorama,
Eric Dolphy,
Qualms,
Glenn Branca,
The Standells,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Al Stewart,
Zero Boys,
China Crisis,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Juan Atkins,
K-Klass,
The Music Machine,
Buzzcocks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pussy Galore,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Quantec,
The Victims,
Sugar Minott,
Popol Vuh,
Trumans Water,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
New Age Steppers,
Aaron Thompson,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lou Christie,
Marmalade,
The Tremeloes,
The Velvet Underground,
Matthew Halsall,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Golliwogs,
Alphaville,
Basic Channel,
Johnny Osbourne,
Barrington Levy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Colin Newman,
Skarface,
Visage,
Freddie Wadling,
Stereo Dub,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dual Sessions,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Curtis Mayfield,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.