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 Romania and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Milan.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Unwound to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Maurizio,
Negative Approach,
Agent Orange,
Severed Heads,
Flash Fearless,
Avey Tare,
Theoretical Girls,
James Chance & The Contortions,
These Immortal Souls,
Circle Jerks,
Tomorrow,
Bluetip,
The Buckinghams,
Chrome,
Rapeman,
Zapp,
Magma,
Hardrive,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scientists,
The Count Five,
Rhythm & Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Leaves,
Gang Gang Dance,
Depeche Mode,
Archie Shepp,
Mad Mike,
Unwound,
Bauhaus,
Mantronix,
Bill Near,
Eddi Front,
The Gun Club,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Aloha Tigers,
Wasted Youth,
Fatback Band,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
R.M.O.,
Easy Going,
Reuben Wilson,
ABC,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Dead Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
a-ha,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rakim,
Josef K,
Pussy Galore,
Faust,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Roxette,
Surgeon,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.