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 Lebanon and from Toronto.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Durutti Column to the funk 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Ten City,
The Flesh Eaters,
Animal Collective,
Masters at Work,
ABC,
Man Eating Sloth,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Warsaw,
Henry Cow,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Knickerbockers,
The Smoke,
Franke,
Nirvana,
Idris Muhammad,
Duran Duran,
Faust,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Visage,
Bush Tetras,
Danielle Patucci,
Janne Schatter,
Sight & Sound,
Gang Starr,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ultimate Spinach,
Dennis Brown,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Residents,
The Pretty Things,
Man Parrish,
Erykah Badu,
Icehouse,
June Days,
John Lydon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Soul II Soul,
Tubeway Army,
Wolf Eyes,
Pagans,
The Durutti Column,
Hardrive,
Freddie Wadling,
John Cale,
Sixth Finger,
Robert Wyatt,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bang On A Can,
Joe Finger,
Deepchord,
Unwound,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Skaos,
Tom Boy,
Swans,
David Bowie,
John Holt,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Funky Four + One,
X-101,
Babytalk,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.