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 Sudan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Victims to the grime 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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Sonics,
John Lydon,
Schoolly D,
Magazine,
Rakim,
Quantec,
Nation of Ulysses,
Toni Rubio,
Curtis Mayfield,
Au Pairs,
Sam Rivers,
Pantaleimon,
New Order,
Jeru the Damaja,
Janne Schatter,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Brothers Johnson,
Judy Mowatt,
Swans,
Mad Mike,
Underground Resistance,
Graham Central Station,
Newcleus,
Pierre Henry,
the Soft Cell,
Alice Coltrane,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Offenders,
Sonic Youth,
FM Einheit,
Danielle Patucci,
The Mojo Men,
Black Pus,
Davy DMX,
Buzzcocks,
Main Source,
Blossom Toes,
Soul Sonic Force,
Monks,
Grey Daturas,
Henry Cow,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Mr. Review,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Maurizio,
Juan Atkins,
Second Layer,
Alison Limerick,
Ronnie Foster,
Sandy B,
The Busters,
Terry Callier,
Moss Icon,
Peter and Kerry,
Echospace,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Glambeats Corp.,
In Retrospect,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.