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 Korea South and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Shanghai.
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 snare 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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
T. Rex,
The Leaves,
David McCallum,
Scratch Acid,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Sound,
Deakin,
Susan Cadogan,
Bronski Beat,
This Heat,
Sex Pistols,
MDC,
Todd Rundgren,
Dual Sessions,
Albert Ayler,
Ronan,
48th St. Collective,
Jerry's Kids,
CMW,
Index,
Nas,
The Buckinghams,
Niagra,
Rakim,
Ronnie Foster,
Sällskapet,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Warren Ellis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
MC5,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Skatalites,
The Divine Comedy,
Q and Not U,
Bad Manners,
Marine Girls,
Slave,
Henry Cow,
The Birthday Party,
Excepter,
Silicon Teens,
Patti Smith,
Prince Buster,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Dead C,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Reagan Youth,
Sight & Sound,
Tres Demented,
Gang Starr,
Theoretical Girls,
Alphaville,
Babytalk,
Underground Resistance,
Gong,
Angry Samoans,
Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes, Mo-Dettes.
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.