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 Denmark and from Jakarta.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 clarinet 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 Wire to the punk 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 The Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radiopuhelimet,
Unwound,
Aswad,
Das Ding,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Magazine,
Surgeon,
Gang of Four,
Oblivians,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Von Mondo,
Marc Almond,
Crime,
Arthur Verocai,
Zapp,
Amazonics,
Black Pus,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Saints,
Alison Limerick,
The Beau Brummels,
Siglo XX,
The Stooges,
Traffic Nightmare,
John Coltrane,
Sister Nancy,
Rotary Connection,
the Fania All-Stars,
Hashim,
Pet Shop Boys,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
FM Einheit,
Toni Rubio,
Prince Buster,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Trumans Water,
Sun Ra,
The Victims,
The Angels of Light,
KRS-One,
The Leaves,
The Fuzztones,
Roxette,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tubeway Army,
Slick Rick,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Main Source,
The Sonics,
Tres Demented,
EPMD,
Deakin,
Black Sheep,
Patti Smith,
Clear Light,
Bobby Womack,
Hasil Adkins,
The Move,
Albert Ayler,
Oneida,
Fat Boys,
Boogie Down Productions,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.