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 Solomon Islands and from Johannesburg.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Eurythmics to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Slits. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Teasers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moss Icon,
Shuggie Otis,
Slave,
The Sound,
Faraquet,
Can,
The Misunderstood,
The Seeds,
Wasted Youth,
Roxette,
Agent Orange,
The Moody Blues,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Porter Ricks,
Ten City,
AZ,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Happenings,
Isaac Hayes,
Harry Pussy,
Black Bananas,
Altered Images,
Cybotron,
Niagra,
The Detroit Cobras,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Throbbing Gristle,
DJ Style,
Brothers Johnson,
Arcadia,
Amazonics,
Aural Exciters,
Erykah Badu,
Franke,
Groovy Waters,
Anthony Braxton,
Cymande,
Juan Atkins,
Cheater Slicks,
Smog,
F. McDonald,
The Flesh Eaters,
Jeru the Damaja,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Depeche Mode,
DNA,
Tom Boy,
Brick,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Skriet,
In Retrospect,
Ponytail,
Rakim,
Robert Görl,
Das Ding,
Reuben Wilson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.