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 Mauritania and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fugs to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Guru Guru,
Aaron Thompson,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
EPMD,
Supertramp,
Slave,
The Buckinghams,
Fad Gadget,
Glenn Branca,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Desert Stars,
Chrome,
Maurizio,
the Swans,
Brand Nubian,
John Holt,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Angry Samoans,
the Soft Cell,
Peter & Gordon,
Nik Kershaw,
World's Most,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jacques Brel,
Bootsy Collins,
Isaac Hayes,
Roger Hodgson,
Jerry's Kids,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gong,
The Divine Comedy,
Marc Almond,
Smog,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kerrie Biddell,
Barbara Tucker,
Circle Jerks,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Real Kids,
Henry Cow,
Pole,
Black Sheep,
Crash Course in Science,
Youth Brigade,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Suicide,
Deepchord,
Cecil Taylor,
Rites of Spring,
Bill Wells,
The Selecter,
Iggy Pop,
The Residents,
Marcia Griffiths,
Funkadelic,
Scan 7,
Albert Ayler,
The Angels of Light,
Nation of Ulysses,
Groovy Waters,
The Star Department,
Eve St. Jones,
Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese, Half Japanese.
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.