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 Peru and from Hong Kong.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba 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 Faraquet to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dead C,
Liliput,
Bill Wells,
The Remains,
Absolute Body Control,
Gabor Szabo,
Michelle Simonal,
The Smiths,
Porter Ricks,
Blossom Toes,
Nick Fraelich,
Electric Light Orchestra,
48th St. Collective,
Brick,
X-102,
The Beau Brummels,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Maurizio,
Throbbing Gristle,
T.S.O.L.,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Donny Hathaway,
Susan Cadogan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Gang Gang Dance,
Minny Pops,
Outsiders,
The Neon Judgement,
X-101,
CMW,
Subhumans,
These Immortal Souls,
Adolescents,
Dorothy Ashby,
Harry Pussy,
Glenn Branca,
Man Parrish,
Lou Christie,
Godley & Creme,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Steve Hackett,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The New Christs,
Ultra Naté,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
June Days,
The Mojo Men,
Panda Bear,
The J.B.'s,
Iggy Pop,
Bootsy Collins,
Ultravox,
Lightning Bolt,
The Alarm Clocks,
10cc,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Index,
Don Cherry,
Aswad,
Eric B and Rakim,
Man Eating Sloth,
Little Man, Little Man, Little Man, Little Man.
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.