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 Portland.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Soft Machine to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Hardrive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy Collins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Faust,
Y Pants,
Tears for Fears,
Brand Nubian,
The Selecter,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Skaos,
Rapeman,
Graham Central Station,
Livin' Joy,
Bang On A Can,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Circle Jerks,
R.M.O.,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Association,
Deakin,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Talk Talk,
Byron Stingily,
The Dirtbombs,
the Sonics,
The Red Krayola,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ten City,
Cheater Slicks,
Harmonia,
Spoonie Gee,
Jimmy McGriff,
Josef K,
Lungfish,
Moby Grape,
Bill Near,
Deadbeat,
MC5,
Zero Boys,
Eddi Front,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Infiniti,
Outsiders,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lalann,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-Ray Spex,
Godley & Creme,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Cramps,
Echospace,
DJ Style,
Moebius,
Stetsasonic,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mr. Review,
Lee Hazlewood,
Colin Newman,
The Monks,
Alice Coltrane,
Darondo,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.