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 Guatemala and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rapeman to the crunk 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 Liliput. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Interpol,
John Foxx,
Deakin,
K-Klass,
Saccharine Trust,
Sex Pistols,
The Smiths,
Boredoms,
The Saints,
Lower 48,
Bad Manners,
The Grass Roots,
Minnie Riperton,
The Techniques,
Main Source,
Bob Dylan,
Excepter,
The Shadows of Knight,
DJ Sneak,
Stiv Bators,
The Dave Clark Five,
Accadde A,
Barrington Levy,
KRS-One,
Black Moon,
Tres Demented,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Fuzztones,
Juan Atkins,
Franke,
John Lydon,
Alice Coltrane,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Buzzcocks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Susan Cadogan,
The Misunderstood,
Lucky Dragons,
Kaleidoscope,
The Sound,
Sonny Sharrock,
Brothers Johnson,
Faraquet,
Reagan Youth,
The Raincoats,
June of 44,
Cymande,
Aloha Tigers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scrapy,
Barry Ungar,
Severed Heads,
Jandek,
Chris Corsano,
The Blackbyrds,
Lou Christie,
Glenn Branca,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.