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 Congo and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Aural Exciters to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Subhumans,
Interpol,
Girls At Our Best!,
Cheater Slicks,
The Cowsills,
Glenn Branca,
The Black Dice,
Kenny Larkin,
Nick Fraelich,
Das Ding,
Silicon Teens,
Kayak,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Searchers,
Colin Newman,
Marine Girls,
Stiv Bators,
The Smoke,
Fat Boys,
Drexciya,
Rhythm & Sound,
Young Marble Giants,
Cameo,
Visage,
Circle Jerks,
Todd Rundgren,
Funkadelic,
Malaria!,
These Immortal Souls,
Minnie Riperton,
Excepter,
Niagra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Joe Smooth,
Black Sheep,
X-Ray Spex,
The Cure,
Bauhaus,
Graham Central Station,
Dark Day,
The Electric Prunes,
The Dirtbombs,
Urselle,
The Residents,
Barbara Tucker,
Neu!,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Qualms,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rotary Connection,
The Names,
The Victims,
Barrington Levy,
Thompson Twins,
The Index,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.