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 Korea South and from Cairo.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 synthesizer 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 The Music Machine to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Black Flag. All the underground hits.
All Bush Tetras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Litter 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?
Pole,
Motorama,
the Slits,
Todd Rundgren,
Mandrill,
Juan Atkins,
One Last Wish,
Monks,
The Martian,
Derrick May,
Rapeman,
Parry Music,
Easy Going,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Q65,
Neu!,
Ten City,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Jerry's Kids,
Terry Callier,
Second Layer,
Radiopuhelimet,
Siglo XX,
Ponytail,
The American Breed,
Morten Harket,
Fad Gadget,
Eddi Front,
48th St. Collective,
Traffic Nightmare,
Oblivians,
Howard Jones,
Minnie Riperton,
DNA,
Derrick Morgan,
Mission of Burma,
China Crisis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Minor Threat,
Subhumans,
Colin Newman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Black Sheep,
Niagra,
Lou Reed,
Brothers Johnson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eli Mardock,
Jesper Dahlback,
ABBA,
Franke,
The Cramps,
Altered Images,
Yusef Lateef,
Black Moon,
John Coltrane,
Bobbi Humphrey,
June of 44,
Gastr Del Sol,
David Bowie,
Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith, Patti Smith.
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.