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 Namibia and from Lagos.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Buzzcocks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maleditus Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Beau Brummels,
Brothers Johnson,
The Dead C,
Reagan Youth,
The Five Americans,
Deakin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Arab on Radar,
Urselle,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Scratch Acid,
AZ,
Robert Hood,
The Mojo Men,
Pylon,
CMW,
Buzzcocks,
the Bar-Kays,
The Motions,
Joe Finger,
Lalann,
Bizarre Inc.,
Scientists,
Alice Coltrane,
the Germs,
Stetsasonic,
These Immortal Souls,
Loose Ends,
Nick Fraelich,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
James White and The Blacks,
Mo-Dettes,
The Skatalites,
A Certain Ratio,
Porter Ricks,
Matthew Halsall,
Jandek,
Jesper Dahlback,
Bluetip,
Davy DMX,
Spoonie Gee,
New Order,
Crooked Eye,
Boredoms,
The Moleskins,
Newcleus,
Iggy Pop,
This Heat,
Colin Newman,
Henry Cow,
Maleditus Sound,
Darondo,
The Slits,
Joensuu 1685,
Eden Ahbez,
Altered Images,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.