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 Guinea-Bissau and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Girls At Our Best! to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Reed,
The Gladiators,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mr. Review,
X-101,
Hot Snakes,
Yazoo,
Little Man,
The Zeros,
The Misunderstood,
The Fuzztones,
Fear,
Boredoms,
Pantaleimon,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Quando Quango,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Vladislav Delay,
Moss Icon,
The Red Krayola,
Barrington Levy,
Groovy Waters,
Kaleidoscope,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Lou Christie,
Scott Walker,
The New Christs,
Nation of Ulysses,
8 Eyed Spy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Bar-Kays,
Yusef Lateef,
Lyres,
The Stooges,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Anthony Braxton,
Tropical Tobacco,
Janne Schatter,
The Monochrome Set,
Sugar Minott,
Pagans,
Lightning Bolt,
Joey Negro,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ludus,
The Doobie Brothers,
China Crisis,
The Selecter,
Traffic Nightmare,
Amon Düül,
Bootsy Collins,
Robert Wyatt,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
E-Dancer,
The Move,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gastr Del Sol,
Flipper,
Outsiders,
The Modern Lovers,
Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen, Leonard Cohen.
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.