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 Belgium and from Tehran.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Interpol to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Main Source,
Stiv Bators,
Peter & Gordon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fat Boys,
Sex Pistols,
Altered Images,
Charles Mingus,
Sparks,
the Normal,
Maurizio,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Alphaville,
Flash Fearless,
Jesper Dahlback,
8 Eyed Spy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sun City Girls,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wasted Youth,
Flamin' Groovies,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Blues Magoos,
the Bar-Kays,
Royal Trux,
Kenny Larkin,
The Dead C,
Unwound,
David McCallum,
Donald Byrd,
Jeff Lynne,
Qualms,
Guru Guru,
The American Breed,
The Count Five,
Brand Nubian,
Ossler,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Infiniti,
Grey Daturas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Amazonics,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Fugs,
The Last Poets,
Amon Düül,
Alison Limerick,
Visage,
Dennis Brown,
Parry Music,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Howard Jones,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.