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 Benin and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Fugazi to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Faraquet. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
Darondo,
Dual Sessions,
U.S. Maple,
Bang On A Can,
Das Ding,
Fatback Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Patti Smith,
Pantytec,
Model 500,
Black Pus,
La Düsseldorf,
Duran Duran,
Tommy Roe,
James Chance & The Contortions,
China Crisis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Beau Brummels,
Flash Fearless,
Aural Exciters,
Buzzcocks,
New York Dolls,
Ronan,
Alison Limerick,
Agent Orange,
Robert Hood,
the Human League,
Blossom Toes,
The Slits,
Qualms,
Bill Wells,
Lou Reed,
Glambeats Corp.,
Unwound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Barracudas,
Inner City,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Smiths,
Slick Rick,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Byron Stingily,
Animal Collective,
Skarface,
Trumans Water,
Quando Quango,
The Smoke,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Amon Düül,
The Gap Band,
Roxette,
The Vogues,
X-Ray Spex,
Hasil Adkins,
Josef K,
Eddi Front,
Funkadelic,
Pere Ubu,
Peter and Kerry,
These Immortal Souls,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.