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 Togo and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and New York.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Neon Judgement to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All David Axelrod tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jawbox,
Bronski Beat,
Nick Fraelich,
Davy DMX,
Pharoah Sanders,
Patti Smith,
The Seeds,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Intrusion,
The Victims,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Shoche,
Todd Rundgren,
Nas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Black Pus,
Panda Bear,
Spandau Ballet,
World's Most,
John Lydon,
Bush Tetras,
Mr. Review,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Roger Hodgson,
Japan,
The Birthday Party,
Rosa Yemen,
Archie Shepp,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Moody Blues,
The Selecter,
The Monochrome Set,
Kerri Chandler,
Albert Ayler,
Al Stewart,
The Wake,
Godley & Creme,
Dual Sessions,
Moby Grape,
Adolescents,
Maurizio,
The Trojans,
The Angels of Light,
ABC,
Morten Harket,
Basic Channel,
Swans,
8 Eyed Spy,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Eric Copeland,
Bill Near,
The Durutti Column,
Fear,
Cluster,
Pierre Henry,
Sound Behaviour,
Eric Dolphy,
Marmalade,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.