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 Papua New Guinea and from Accra.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Gladiators to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Stiv Bators. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
The Doors,
MC5,
Throbbing Gristle,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Monks,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Leaves,
The Fire Engines,
Pole,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cheater Slicks,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harry Pussy,
David Axelrod,
Excepter,
The Litter,
The Sound,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Thee Headcoats,
Pierre Henry,
Letta Mbulu,
The Motions,
Marine Girls,
The Monks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Roger Hodgson,
Nas,
Heaven 17,
Oblivians,
Ralphi Rosario,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Young Rascals,
Schoolly D,
Nils Olav,
Godley & Creme,
Cameo,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Blackbyrds,
Cecil Taylor,
Maleditus Sound,
Hardrive,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Swans,
Marmalade,
Jacob Miller,
DNA,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Joe Finger,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Delta 5,
The Fuzztones,
Easy Going,
Neu!,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Beau Brummels,
Archie Shepp,
Piero Umiliani,
David McCallum,
Leonard Cohen,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.