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 Albania 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family to the funk 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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Neu! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Jerry's Kids,
Glenn Branca,
Infiniti,
Easy Going,
Intrusion,
Matthew Bourne,
Eric Copeland,
Godley & Creme,
Alton Ellis,
The Divine Comedy,
John Holt,
Lakeside,
Make Up,
Jacques Brel,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Tremeloes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
the Human League,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Newcleus,
Angry Samoans,
Vladislav Delay,
Agent Orange,
The Fire Engines,
Eve St. Jones,
Sixth Finger,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Livin' Joy,
Pole,
Girls At Our Best!,
Ponytail,
Y Pants,
Iggy Pop,
Panda Bear,
Marcia Griffiths,
Susan Cadogan,
Fela Kuti,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Kayak,
John Cale,
The Smoke,
Ituana,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Accadde A,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Red Krayola,
Pere Ubu,
Pylon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ultravox,
Kaleidoscope,
Young Marble Giants,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Happenings,
Rekid,
Silicon Teens,
Von Mondo,
Minutemen,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.