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 Burkina and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 snare 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 Dead C to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 New York Dolls. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Jerry's Kids,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rotary Connection,
Lightning Bolt,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Magazine,
The Martian,
Michelle Simonal,
The Vogues,
Janne Schatter,
Pantaleimon,
Nico,
the Slits,
Camouflage,
Tommy Roe,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Divine Comedy,
Ronan,
Althea and Donna,
Country Teasers,
Spandau Ballet,
Popol Vuh,
Half Japanese,
Bronski Beat,
Pagans,
Marvin Gaye,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Mars,
Monks,
The Fuzztones,
E-Dancer,
Smog,
World's Most,
Lungfish,
Unwound,
Todd Rundgren,
Radiohead,
Oneida,
MDC,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pharoah Sanders,
Magma,
Stockholm Monsters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Minor Threat,
The Fire Engines,
Steve Hackett,
The Human League,
Agitation Free,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Simply Red,
Funky Four + One,
In Retrospect,
Niagra,
Henry Cow,
Pussy Galore,
the Fania All-Stars,
Zapp,
The Residents,
The Techniques,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Skriet, Skriet, Skriet, Skriet.
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.