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 Denmark and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cowsills to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Girls At Our Best! tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fugazi record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Misunderstood,
Eddi Front,
Bluetip,
Niagra,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lalann,
Bill Near,
Altered Images,
Arab on Radar,
Shuggie Otis,
Echospace,
Camberwell Now,
Peter and Kerry,
Newcleus,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Angry Samoans,
The Residents,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Human League,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Trojans,
The Divine Comedy,
Jandek,
Banda Bassotti,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Soft Cell,
Nirvana,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Juan Atkins,
the Association,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Wire,
The Knickerbockers,
Jesper Dahlback,
H. Thieme,
Andrew Hill,
Charles Mingus,
The Skatalites,
Eden Ahbez,
a-ha,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sister Nancy,
Chrome,
Radiohead,
Erasure,
Connie Case,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Tears for Fears,
MC5,
Stiv Bators,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mantronix,
Procol Harum,
Lyres,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Beau Brummels,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Velvet Underground,
Interpol,
Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection, Rotary Connection.
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.