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 Nepal and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry. All the underground hits.
All Eli Mardock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Siglo XX,
Interpol,
Agitation Free,
Vainqueur,
Das Ding,
Graham Central Station,
Deepchord,
Sparks,
Simply Red,
Gil Scott Heron,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Skaos,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tres Demented,
Tom Boy,
Blancmange,
The Index,
Man Eating Sloth,
Joy Division,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
La Düsseldorf,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Names,
Youth Brigade,
Qualms,
The Red Krayola,
The Blues Magoos,
Sex Pistols,
The Monks,
Tommy Roe,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hot Snakes,
John Lydon,
Slick Rick,
Neil Young,
The Divine Comedy,
X-101,
Cal Tjader,
The Move,
The Techniques,
Thompson Twins,
FM Einheit,
Barry Ungar,
David Bowie,
Spoonie Gee,
Eve St. Jones,
Reagan Youth,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Fugs,
Bad Manners,
The Gun Club,
Juan Atkins,
Zero Boys,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Camouflage,
Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman, Bobby Sherman.
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.