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 Bangladesh and from Portland.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 harpsichord 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 The Divine Comedy to the punk 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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mantronix record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Traffic Nightmare,
Toni Rubio,
The Moleskins,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Barry Ungar,
Godley & Creme,
Fear,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nirvana,
Half Japanese,
Mr. Review,
UT,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rotary Connection,
John Coltrane,
Arab on Radar,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Black Dice,
Ituana,
Franke,
Prince Buster,
Scion,
Carl Craig,
Marvin Gaye,
Morten Harket,
Man Parrish,
Rakim,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lebanon Hanover,
Symarip,
Henry Cow,
Bill Wells,
Oneida,
Shoche,
Juan Atkins,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Blake Baxter,
The Saints,
New York Dolls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
K-Klass,
Boz Scaggs,
Mandrill,
Tubeway Army,
Monolake,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Y Pants,
Masters at Work,
Delta 5,
Liliput,
Vainqueur,
Pylon,
Livin' Joy,
Ultra Naté,
The Gladiators,
Kenny Larkin,
Faraquet,
Quando Quango,
The Monks,
Interpol,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.