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 Malaysia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the snare 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 James White and The Blacks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All The Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Delta 5 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ponytail,
Ultravox,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Trojans,
PIL,
Pere Ubu,
The Litter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
L. Decosne,
The Pop Group,
Quantec,
Pussy Galore,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Harry Pussy,
The Mojo Men,
Gang Green,
Mission of Burma,
the Association,
Zero Boys,
The Angels of Light,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
David McCallum,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jandek,
Banda Bassotti,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Goldenarms,
Malaria!,
The Buckinghams,
The Index,
Tres Demented,
DJ Style,
Neil Young,
Slave,
Franke,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pantytec,
AZ,
The Golliwogs,
Loose Ends,
The Shadows of Knight,
Albert Ayler,
Marc Almond,
The Gun Club,
Man Eating Sloth,
Boogie Down Productions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Swans,
kango's stein massive,
Leonard Cohen,
Youth Brigade,
Junior Murvin,
Juan Atkins,
Ten City,
Surgeon,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dave Gahan,
Metal Thangz,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Archie Shepp,
Joyce Sims,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.