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 Djibouti and from Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Blancmange to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Eurythmics. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Sparks,
Roxy Music,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Monks,
The Selecter,
The Electric Prunes,
Marmalade,
Warren Ellis,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
X-101,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
CMW,
Lyres,
Bob Dylan,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Organ,
Kerrie Biddell,
Anthony Braxton,
Y Pants,
The Sisters of Mercy,
New York Dolls,
Ken Boothe,
Bang On A Can,
Zapp,
Young Marble Giants,
Electric Light Orchestra,
James White and The Blacks,
Vladislav Delay,
Public Image Ltd.,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Slits,
Faraquet,
Electric Prunes,
Pantaleimon,
The Divine Comedy,
Bootsy Collins,
Cybotron,
Albert Ayler,
The Grass Roots,
Crispy Ambulance,
Vainqueur,
The Skatalites,
Soft Machine,
Ultimate Spinach,
John Cale,
Liliput,
Ice-T,
Bush Tetras,
Smog,
The Fire Engines,
Interpol,
The Sound,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Real Kids,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Human League,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Hasil Adkins,
Harry Pussy,
Visage,
The Standells,
Soulsonic Force,
Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars, Bang on a Can All-Stars.
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.