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 Norway and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Happenings to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Inner City. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Birthday Party,
Mars,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Radiohead,
Rapeman,
Subhumans,
Brass Construction,
Curtis Mayfield,
Spandau Ballet,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Scion,
CMW,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joy Division,
DJ Style,
Ultra Naté,
Joyce Sims,
The Fire Engines,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Dirtbombs,
Barclay James Harvest,
Idris Muhammad,
The Wake,
Television,
Nico,
Echospace,
Kayak,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Happenings,
Lightning Bolt,
Don Cherry,
The Vogues,
Crooked Eye,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Real Kids,
Circle Jerks,
Michelle Simonal,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
New Age Steppers,
Tres Demented,
Sonic Youth,
The Litter,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nas,
Rites of Spring,
This Heat,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Black Moon,
Supertramp,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Sixth Finger,
Suicide,
The Mummies,
Carl Craig,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
James White and The Blacks,
The Seeds,
Symarip,
Kas Product,
World's Most,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.