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 Zambia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gun Club to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June Days record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Residents record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
The Velvet Underground,
KRS-One,
OOIOO,
Basic Channel,
Kayak,
Byron Stingily,
Ornette Coleman,
The Stooges,
Tres Demented,
Kenny Larkin,
Flash Fearless,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Derrick Morgan,
Simply Red,
Pole,
Yazoo,
Nils Olav,
The Saints,
The Mummies,
Alphaville,
The Victims,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Names,
Altered Images,
The Fugs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Whodini,
Bob Dylan,
James White and The Blacks,
The Dirtbombs,
Goldenarms,
Moss Icon,
Motorama,
Barry Ungar,
The Searchers,
Ponytail,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Porter Ricks,
Curtis Mayfield,
EPMD,
Reagan Youth,
Young Marble Giants,
Scrapy,
Banda Bassotti,
Gregory Isaacs,
Bluetip,
Nirvana,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Johnny Clarke,
kango's stein massive,
Urselle,
The Tremeloes,
Todd Terry,
Roy Ayers,
Monks,
Sam Rivers,
Pantaleimon,
Make Up,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.