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 Czech Republic and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 snare 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Pagans. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Standells record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Goldenarms,
Von Mondo,
the Swans,
Joy Division,
Black Moon,
Harry Pussy,
Mission of Burma,
Metal Thangz,
Hasil Adkins,
The Gladiators,
Kerrie Biddell,
Los Fastidios,
The Stooges,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Residents,
PIL,
Charles Mingus,
Minny Pops,
The American Breed,
The Monochrome Set,
Black Pus,
The Young Rascals,
Circle Jerks,
Mars,
kango's stein massive,
Technova,
Gichy Dan,
Ice-T,
Agent Orange,
Jeff Mills,
Nils Olav,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Amon Düül,
Sight & Sound,
New York Dolls,
Reuben Wilson,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Alarm Clocks,
Joey Negro,
Pylon,
Graham Central Station,
Lindisfarne,
New Order,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Prince Buster,
the Sonics,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Mojo Men,
Pole,
Black Bananas,
Erykah Badu,
Blancmange,
Arthur Verocai,
Sugar Minott,
The Cure,
Index,
the Normal,
Black Sheep,
Jandek, Jandek, Jandek, Jandek.
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.