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 Lebanon and from Woodstock.
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 Madrid and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Blues Magoos to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
JFA,
Porter Ricks,
Darondo,
Lightning Bolt,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Man Eating Sloth,
Youth Brigade,
Gabor Szabo,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Joy Division,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Radiohead,
Grandmaster Flash,
Reagan Youth,
Kerri Chandler,
The Mojo Men,
Blancmange,
Kerrie Biddell,
Maleditus Sound,
Hasil Adkins,
Althea and Donna,
Desert Stars,
Rekid,
Swans,
The Saints,
The Young Rascals,
Deepchord,
the Normal,
Suburban Knight,
The Red Krayola,
The Black Dice,
Tom Boy,
Country Teasers,
Erasure,
Rites of Spring,
These Immortal Souls,
Hoover,
Ralphi Rosario,
Dawn Penn,
Crispian St. Peters,
World's Most,
Metal Thangz,
T. Rex,
Sam Rivers,
The New Christs,
Graham Central Station,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Smiths,
Todd Rundgren,
Das Ding,
Nik Kershaw,
The Gories,
Warsaw,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pere Ubu,
Flipper,
K-Klass,
Bluetip,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
DNA,
Throbbing Gristle,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.