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 Hungary and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 chamberlin 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 Bush Tetras to the dance 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 The Slits. All the underground hits.
All Smog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
The Detroit Cobras,
Erykah Badu,
Tropical Tobacco,
Eric B and Rakim,
Electric Prunes,
The Mummies,
Johnny Clarke,
New York Dolls,
Eli Mardock,
Todd Terry,
Hardrive,
Outsiders,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jacob Miller,
Sexual Harrassment,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Howard Jones,
Magazine,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Leonard Cohen,
Mo-Dettes,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Hot Snakes,
ABC,
Todd Rundgren,
Scrapy,
Bauhaus,
Groovy Waters,
Black Sheep,
Massinfluence,
Dual Sessions,
Yaz,
Robert Görl,
Quando Quango,
Man Eating Sloth,
Severed Heads,
Nico,
Au Pairs,
Eden Ahbez,
Scott Walker,
Public Image Ltd.,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Stooges,
Flipper,
The Angels of Light,
Ponytail,
Surgeon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Godley & Creme,
Curtis Mayfield,
X-102,
John Holt,
Crispy Ambulance,
New Age Steppers,
Suicide,
Swans,
Spoonie Gee,
the Slits,
The Grass Roots,
Patti Smith,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.