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 Paraguay and from Taipei.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud to the rap 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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crime 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Gang of Four,
Radio Birdman,
Bob Dylan,
Rufus Thomas,
Kerrie Biddell,
Pussy Galore,
Kerri Chandler,
Interpol,
Henry Cow,
Kaleidoscope,
Technova,
The Fire Engines,
Young Marble Giants,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marcia Griffiths,
OOIOO,
Moby Grape,
Loose Ends,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nik Kershaw,
Grauzone,
Warsaw,
Visage,
Lower 48,
Pantaleimon,
Aaron Thompson,
Main Source,
Gang Starr,
New Age Steppers,
Wolf Eyes,
Fela Kuti,
Beasts of Bourbon,
H. Thieme,
Model 500,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fad Gadget,
The Seeds,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Move,
Deakin,
Supertramp,
Lou Reed,
The Red Krayola,
Niagra,
Wings,
Tropical Tobacco,
LL Cool J,
Andrew Hill,
One Last Wish,
Lightning Bolt,
Intrusion,
Siglo XX,
Laurel Aitken,
The Blues Magoos,
Lungfish,
Tears for Fears,
Sixth Finger,
Amon Düül,
The Alarm Clocks,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.