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 Senegal and from Spokane.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Hasil Adkins to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Loose Ends,
Robert Wyatt,
OOIOO,
Blake Baxter,
Oneida,
Alphaville,
Vainqueur,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Soulsonic Force,
Pagans,
Rosa Yemen,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joensuu 1685,
The Busters,
Eddi Front,
Arab on Radar,
Harry Pussy,
The Walker Brothers,
Suburban Knight,
The Monks,
In Retrospect,
Mark Hollis,
The Electric Prunes,
The Music Machine,
Sex Pistols,
Gabor Szabo,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Masters at Work,
World's Most,
Das Ding,
The Durutti Column,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Theoretical Girls,
Banda Bassotti,
Bob Dylan,
Henry Cow,
Barbara Tucker,
Steve Hackett,
Sparks,
The Slackers,
The Slits,
EPMD,
Goldenarms,
Slave,
The Buckinghams,
Warren Ellis,
Eyeless In Gaza,
New York Dolls,
the Soft Cell,
B.T. Express,
Michelle Simonal,
Barry Ungar,
Can,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Letta Mbulu,
Gang Gang Dance,
Dennis Brown,
Girls At Our Best!,
a-ha,
Joy Division,
H. Thieme,
Flash Fearless,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.