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 Philippines and from Sao Paulo.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Harry Pussy to the funk 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 The Busters. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Shoche,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Banda Bassotti,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Skarface,
Essential Logic,
Laurel Aitken,
Pylon,
Chris & Cosey,
The Dirtbombs,
Bang On A Can,
Skriet,
Marcia Griffiths,
Marc Almond,
Pussy Galore,
Oneida,
Kurtis Blow,
Robert Wyatt,
Big Daddy Kane,
Aloha Tigers,
Fat Boys,
Bob Dylan,
X-Ray Spex,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Mummies,
Freddie Wadling,
Oblivians,
Boredoms,
DNA,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mission of Burma,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Brass Construction,
Guru Guru,
Delon & Dalcan,
DJ Sneak,
LL Cool J,
The Wake,
The Modern Lovers,
Sonic Youth,
Bill Near,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
PIL,
Suburban Knight,
Scan 7,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Gories,
Monolake,
Erasure,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bluetip,
Maurizio,
Pagans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tom Boy,
Glambeats Corp.,
K-Klass,
The Misunderstood,
Eric Copeland,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.