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 Seychelles and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 arpeggiator 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 Sam Rivers to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every H. Thieme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Zeros,
Steve Hackett,
John Lydon,
Fatback Band,
Index,
48th St. Collective,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ultravox,
Quadrant,
Prince Buster,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Deepchord,
The Gun Club,
The Kinks,
Bill Wells,
Television Personalities,
The Leaves,
Ultimate Spinach,
The American Breed,
FM Einheit,
Mission of Burma,
Don Cherry,
kango's stein massive,
Bob Dylan,
Unwound,
Glenn Branca,
Sugar Minott,
F. McDonald,
Sällskapet,
The Moody Blues,
Black Moon,
Severed Heads,
Gang Gang Dance,
Los Fastidios,
Brothers Johnson,
Donny Hathaway,
Q65,
Bush Tetras,
Slick Rick,
Mad Mike,
Parry Music,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Scion,
KRS-One,
Mary Jane Girls,
Japan,
Cymande,
Average White Band,
The Velvet Underground,
Sam Rivers,
The Five Americans,
Marvin Gaye,
Anthony Braxton,
Traffic Nightmare,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gong,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kerri Chandler,
the Slits, the Slits, the Slits, the Slits.
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.