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 Laos and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Paris and Copenhagen.
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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 David Axelrod to the grime 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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All DeepChord presents Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sixth Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Darondo,
The Detroit Cobras,
Visage,
A Certain Ratio,
T. Rex,
Alton Ellis,
Guru Guru,
Mr. Review,
The Velvet Underground,
Soft Machine,
Fugazi,
Masters at Work,
Metal Thangz,
Bobby Byrd,
The Martian,
Lou Reed,
Absolute Body Control,
Cal Tjader,
Hasil Adkins,
Judy Mowatt,
Jacques Brel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Litter,
Smog,
The Human League,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Echospace,
Toni Rubio,
Ronan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Country Teasers,
Blancmange,
B.T. Express,
Bobby Womack,
Chris Corsano,
Gang Green,
The Evens,
Ituana,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mary Jane Girls,
Donny Hathaway,
Adolescents,
The Offenders,
Big Daddy Kane,
Faraquet,
Ten City,
The Five Americans,
Zero Boys,
The Monks,
Slick Rick,
Outsiders,
Lee Hazlewood,
Wire,
Eric Dolphy,
Nirvana,
Desert Stars,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Prince Buster,
Alice Coltrane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.