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 Kuwait and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the sitar 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 Yazoo to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DNA. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pole record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Masters at Work,
John Foxx,
Joyce Sims,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pulsallama,
The Human League,
Joy Division,
Mission of Burma,
The Leaves,
Y Pants,
Marvin Gaye,
Leonard Cohen,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sonic Youth,
Crash Course in Science,
KRS-One,
Shuggie Otis,
The Skatalites,
The Wake,
The Tremeloes,
The Red Krayola,
Anthony Braxton,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scientists,
Mandrill,
Monolake,
The Moody Blues,
The Selecter,
Funkadelic,
Eric Copeland,
Pantytec,
Khruangbin,
China Crisis,
Newcleus,
Crime,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Junior Murvin,
Television Personalities,
John Lydon,
These Immortal Souls,
The Kinks,
Mo-Dettes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Brand Nubian,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Cowsills,
Avey Tare,
Barbara Tucker,
Camouflage,
Pierre Henry,
Lou Reed,
The Busters,
Ornette Coleman,
Steve Hackett,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ralphi Rosario,
Donny Hathaway,
The Litter,
Moby Grape,
Simply Red,
X-101,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.