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 Croatia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Martian to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Nico,
The Busters,
Henry Cow,
Scratch Acid,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Desert Stars,
The Sound,
Shoche,
The Dead C,
David McCallum,
Scan 7,
OOIOO,
The Smiths,
Unwound,
The Count Five,
Sound Behaviour,
The Monks,
Young Marble Giants,
Pulsallama,
Ponytail,
Danielle Patucci,
One Last Wish,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Quando Quango,
Charles Mingus,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The American Breed,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Jimmy McGriff,
Dark Day,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
The Sonics,
Maleditus Sound,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scott Walker,
Make Up,
The Shadows of Knight,
Reuben Wilson,
Lucky Dragons,
KRS-One,
Grey Daturas,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bob Dylan,
Soft Machine,
Jeru the Damaja,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Peter and Kerry,
Toni Rubio,
Sandy B,
Guru Guru,
Crooked Eye,
Roxette,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
John Holt,
Niagra,
Lightning Bolt,
Funkadelic,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.