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 Botswana and from Copenhagen.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Wire to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Masters at Work,
Public Image Ltd.,
Circle Jerks,
The Offenders,
Barclay James Harvest,
EPMD,
Fatback Band,
The Fire Engines,
Heaven 17,
Mandrill,
Maleditus Sound,
Crash Course in Science,
Ice-T,
The Monochrome Set,
JFA,
Gang of Four,
Main Source,
New York Dolls,
Ultravox,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gun Club,
Inner City,
Lower 48,
The Residents,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Beau Brummels,
Fear,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Searchers,
Infiniti,
Sound Behaviour,
Marine Girls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Alison Limerick,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nils Olav,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rapeman,
Parry Music,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Donald Byrd,
Terrestrial Tones,
Accadde A,
Shoche,
Derrick Morgan,
Leonard Cohen,
Agitation Free,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Can,
Scientists,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Slits,
Barry Ungar,
Pierre Henry,
Dorothy Ashby,
One Last Wish,
The Birthday Party,
Sun City Girls,
Young Marble Giants,
Theoretical Girls,
Derrick May,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.