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 Madagascar and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Winnipeg.
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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 Mantronix to the electroclash 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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Beau Brummels record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Buzzcocks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
These Immortal Souls,
Monks,
The Busters,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Throbbing Gristle,
T.S.O.L.,
Mandrill,
Grey Daturas,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Fire Engines,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
48th St. Collective,
the Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
Livin' Joy,
Ultra Naté,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Moby Grape,
Rekid,
Whodini,
Maurizio,
Donald Byrd,
Fluxion,
The Mojo Men,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tom Boy,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Intrusion,
Yusef Lateef,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Marmalade,
the Sonics,
The Residents,
Black Pus,
The Velvet Underground,
Rakim,
Sam Rivers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Todd Rundgren,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Music Machine,
PIL,
Boredoms,
Bobby Byrd,
New Order,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Yellowson,
Josef K,
Y Pants,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Searchers,
Patti Smith,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Slackers,
Adolescents,
Faraquet,
Davy DMX,
Darondo,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.