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 Dominican Republic and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Buzzcocks to the grunge 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 kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Saccharine Trust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
It's A Beautiful Day,
Eurythmics,
the Normal,
The Young Rascals,
Flipper,
Royal Trux,
The Fortunes,
Robert Wyatt,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Wasted Youth,
The Cowsills,
Thee Headcoats,
The Stooges,
The Techniques,
Nick Fraelich,
Bootsy Collins,
Mr. Review,
Michelle Simonal,
Severed Heads,
Young Marble Giants,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Das Ding,
Lebanon Hanover,
MC5,
Scrapy,
DJ Sneak,
Flamin' Groovies,
Cluster,
Nico,
Neu!,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Electric Prunes,
Yaz,
Andrew Hill,
Soft Machine,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sun Ra,
Pantytec,
Jerry's Kids,
David Bowie,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jacques Brel,
Arab on Radar,
Barry Ungar,
Blancmange,
Kas Product,
Carl Craig,
Fat Boys,
Altered Images,
Lightning Bolt,
Quantec,
The Fire Engines,
Fela Kuti,
Niagra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sugar Minott,
Index,
48th St. Collective,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.