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 Kazakhstan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 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 The Cramps to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sam Rivers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lyres,
Chris Corsano,
Pantaleimon,
Silicon Teens,
Procol Harum,
Vladislav Delay,
June of 44,
Ralphi Rosario,
Minor Threat,
Ossler,
Neu!,
The United States of America,
Visage,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Aloha Tigers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ten City,
Camberwell Now,
CMW,
Sparks,
Steve Hackett,
Bobby Sherman,
Surgeon,
Maleditus Sound,
The Red Krayola,
ABBA,
Goldenarms,
Swell Maps,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Q and Not U,
Gang Green,
Das Ding,
The Stooges,
Lalann,
Joyce Sims,
Malaria!,
John Cale,
Derrick May,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Nils Olav,
Minny Pops,
MC5,
Q65,
Groovy Waters,
Erasure,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Oneida,
Alice Coltrane,
Cameo,
Terry Callier,
Brand Nubian,
Todd Rundgren,
Flamin' Groovies,
Rapeman,
X-102,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Toasters,
The Fuzztones,
Soft Machine,
Smog,
Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter, Janne Schatter.
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.