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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Man Parrish to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All The Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Banda Bassotti,
FM Einheit,
Unrelated Segments,
Rakim,
The Last Poets,
Prince Buster,
Bush Tetras,
T.S.O.L.,
Talk Talk,
Camouflage,
Black Pus,
Magma,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Victims,
The Busters,
Rapeman,
X-102,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Saints,
The Kinks,
One Last Wish,
Kayak,
The Moleskins,
The Tremeloes,
Pagans,
Lee Hazlewood,
La Düsseldorf,
The Dead C,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
AZ,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Cluster,
Cameo,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Amon Düül,
Gregory Isaacs,
Grandmaster Flash,
James White and The Blacks,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Gap Band,
The Names,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Cecil Taylor,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Liliput,
The Raincoats,
Deepchord,
Con Funk Shun,
Susan Cadogan,
The Electric Prunes,
Motorama,
Barrington Levy,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Metal Thangz,
Ossler,
Lalann,
Jesper Dahlback,
Infiniti,
JFA,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.