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 East Timor and from Columbus.
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 Portland and Houston.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the sitar 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 Swell Maps to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hashim,
Pole,
Flipper,
Pylon,
Graham Central Station,
Drexciya,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Human League,
Kenny Larkin,
Unwound,
Vainqueur,
Spoonie Gee,
Motorama,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bluetip,
Radiohead,
The Blackbyrds,
Joy Division,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
EPMD,
Barbara Tucker,
Maurizio,
June Days,
Quadrant,
Dead Boys,
The Stooges,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Derrick May,
Quantec,
Porter Ricks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Desert Stars,
Fat Boys,
Moebius,
The Neon Judgement,
One Last Wish,
The Zeros,
Brothers Johnson,
Essential Logic,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
48th St. Collective,
Prince Buster,
The Electric Prunes,
Con Funk Shun,
Ronan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Warren Ellis,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gang Gang Dance,
X-101,
Darondo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ossler,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Brand Nubian,
Al Stewart,
Sparks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sam Rivers,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.