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 Maldives and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Quadrant to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Television. All the underground hits.
All The Invisible tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Pantaleimon,
Boz Scaggs,
Hoover,
Livin' Joy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Man Eating Sloth,
Byron Stingily,
PIL,
DJ Style,
Con Funk Shun,
Lucky Dragons,
The Seeds,
The Angels of Light,
Mr. Review,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Roxette,
Black Pus,
Ohio Players,
Andrew Hill,
The Leaves,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Golliwogs,
Lightning Bolt,
Zapp,
La Düsseldorf,
Joe Finger,
Arab on Radar,
the Bar-Kays,
H. Thieme,
Prince Buster,
Malaria!,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Wake,
Half Japanese,
Boredoms,
Patti Smith,
Porter Ricks,
T. Rex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Silicon Teens,
JFA,
Monks,
Mad Mike,
The Victims,
Q and Not U,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Moleskins,
Faraquet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bob Dylan,
Country Teasers,
June of 44,
Motorama,
Au Pairs,
Fluxion,
The Cramps,
Flamin' Groovies,
Letta Mbulu,
Japan,
The Vogues,
Slick Rick,
The Techniques,
Flipper,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.