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 New Zealand and from Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eric Dolphy to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masters at Work,
Harpers Bizarre,
F. McDonald,
Ultimate Spinach,
Barrington Levy,
Yusef Lateef,
The Tremeloes,
Smog,
Crooked Eye,
Gang Starr,
Ice-T,
Simply Red,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Beau Brummels,
Quantec,
Johnny Osbourne,
Andrew Hill,
Todd Rundgren,
Neil Young,
Ronan,
Inner City,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Invisible,
New Order,
Wings,
Essential Logic,
Cameo,
Piero Umiliani,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Human League,
Bush Tetras,
Qualms,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
kango's stein massive,
Easy Going,
Jacques Brel,
The Standells,
Make Up,
Deadbeat,
Hot Snakes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Black Bananas,
Q and Not U,
Ultra Naté,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fire Engines,
Ronnie Foster,
Absolute Body Control,
These Immortal Souls,
The Move,
Eve St. Jones,
The Slackers,
Peter & Gordon,
Faraquet,
The Barracudas,
Danielle Patucci,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bluetip,
Trumans Water,
Bob Dylan,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.