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 Oman and from Tehran.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Henry Cow to the grunge 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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Mantronix tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Fania All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barrington Levy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Alice Coltrane,
JFA,
Adolescents,
Pantytec,
Bauhaus,
Agent Orange,
The Fall,
Procol Harum,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lightning Bolt,
Aloha Tigers,
Q and Not U,
Jawbox,
UT,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
F. McDonald,
Sugar Minott,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rapeman,
Radiopuhelimet,
Guru Guru,
The Sonics,
Agitation Free,
Tom Boy,
The Shadows of Knight,
Black Pus,
Bill Wells,
These Immortal Souls,
Rhythm & Sound,
Chris Corsano,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Minny Pops,
Marine Girls,
Theoretical Girls,
Nick Fraelich,
John Holt,
Rosa Yemen,
Gang Green,
Angry Samoans,
The Offenders,
David Axelrod,
Laurel Aitken,
Alton Ellis,
The Dead C,
Mars,
Pierre Henry,
The American Breed,
The Index,
Radiohead,
MDC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kayak,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Clear Light,
Sonic Youth,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Brothers Johnson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.