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 Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the 808 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 Blossom Toes to the punk 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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ornette Coleman 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lebanon Hanover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Barbara Tucker,
Jandek,
Judy Mowatt,
World's Most,
Jeff Mills,
Aural Exciters,
Girls At Our Best!,
Shoche,
Byron Stingily,
8 Eyed Spy,
Swans,
Black Bananas,
The Angels of Light,
Young Marble Giants,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Unwound,
Grey Daturas,
Popol Vuh,
The Fuzztones,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Hot Snakes,
Negative Approach,
La Düsseldorf,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bronski Beat,
The Martian,
The Doors,
Talk Talk,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ken Boothe,
Yellowson,
AZ,
Don Cherry,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Circle Jerks,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Cramps,
These Immortal Souls,
John Coltrane,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rod Modell,
Pagans,
the Bar-Kays,
Roxy Music,
The Names,
Isaac Hayes,
New Order,
The Music Machine,
Joy Division,
Moebius,
Jacob Miller,
Black Flag,
Jacques Brel,
Traffic Nightmare,
Johnny Clarke,
Matthew Halsall,
Reuben Wilson,
Quantec,
Wings,
The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans, The Five Americans.
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.