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 Hungary and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Detroit Cobras to the jazz 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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Mary Jane Girls,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Nick Fraelich,
The Invisible,
Depeche Mode,
Yaz,
Funky Four + One,
Swans,
Tomorrow,
Black Flag,
La Düsseldorf,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Henry Cow,
K-Klass,
The Names,
Marmalade,
Slave,
Severed Heads,
Symarip,
The Dead C,
DNA,
Massinfluence,
The Velvet Underground,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ten City,
KRS-One,
Chrome,
The Golliwogs,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Rod Modell,
One Last Wish,
Quadrant,
Thee Headcoats,
Wire,
Terrestrial Tones,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Moleskins,
Jeru the Damaja,
Clear Light,
The Red Krayola,
Cymande,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jacob Miller,
Ossler,
Los Fastidios,
Janne Schatter,
Saccharine Trust,
Bill Wells,
Sexual Harrassment,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Vladislav Delay,
The Tremeloes,
Yazoo,
Bronski Beat,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Can,
Davy DMX,
Agitation Free,
Toni Rubio,
The Pretty Things,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.