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 Barbados and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Techniques record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Camberwell Now,
Duran Duran,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Fugazi,
Magazine,
Shuggie Otis,
The Kinks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dead Boys,
Goldenarms,
Technova,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bluetip,
Audionom,
Wings,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
ABC,
Brick,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
A Certain Ratio,
Scion,
Metal Thangz,
Das Ding,
Man Parrish,
Al Stewart,
MDC,
Cecil Taylor,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Michelle Simonal,
a-ha,
Soul Sonic Force,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Young Rascals,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Funky Four + One,
New York Dolls,
Marcia Griffiths,
F. McDonald,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
David McCallum,
Girls At Our Best!,
Bauhaus,
Ultravox,
Cymande,
Underground Resistance,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Blues Magoos,
the Slits,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Public Image Ltd.,
Drexciya,
Nils Olav,
John Lydon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Lou Reed,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Howard Jones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scott Walker,
Stiv Bators,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.