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 Indonesia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the theremin 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 PIL to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Invisible,
X-101,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Au Pairs,
Duran Duran,
Joyce Sims,
Black Flag,
cv313,
Harry Pussy,
Vainqueur,
Janne Schatter,
Barry Ungar,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Amon Düül,
The Gun Club,
Darondo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Stiv Bators,
Television,
Johnny Osbourne,
Junior Murvin,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Blues Magoos,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Slackers,
Motorama,
Lightning Bolt,
Arthur Verocai,
Rhythm & Sound,
Aaron Thompson,
Carl Craig,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Al Stewart,
Neu!,
The Toasters,
The Names,
Gang Green,
Surgeon,
the Bar-Kays,
Archie Shepp,
Gerry Rafferty,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Moon,
Alton Ellis,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Eurythmics,
Dual Sessions,
Gichy Dan,
Crooked Eye,
Slave,
Nirvana,
Black Bananas,
Joey Negro,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Electric Prunes,
China Crisis,
Icehouse,
Susan Cadogan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Circle Jerks,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.