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 Denmark and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Lyon.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Swell Maps to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
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 Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gladiators,
Roy Ayers,
Idris Muhammad,
The Sonics,
Ludus,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fugazi,
Roxy Music,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Residents,
Gang of Four,
Mission of Burma,
Magazine,
The Slackers,
Connie Case,
the Slits,
Soft Cell,
Wire,
Chris & Cosey,
Roxette,
Wally Richardson,
Danielle Patucci,
Dawn Penn,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Birthday Party,
Absolute Body Control,
Scrapy,
Laurel Aitken,
Neu!,
Young Marble Giants,
Inner City,
Sarah Menescal,
Letta Mbulu,
June of 44,
F. McDonald,
Clear Light,
X-Ray Spex,
The Human League,
Erasure,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Little Man,
The Fuzztones,
Frankie Knuckles,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Smog,
The Tremeloes,
Black Bananas,
Mars,
The American Breed,
Thompson Twins,
the Swans,
Tears for Fears,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ultravox,
The Index,
Lungfish,
Eli Mardock,
Sparks,
Delon & Dalcan,
8 Eyed Spy,
Barrington Levy,
Sun Ra,
The Raincoats,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.