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 Colombia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Patti Smith to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
Mo-Dettes,
The Fugs,
Yellowson,
Saccharine Trust,
Minutemen,
Deakin,
Max Romeo,
Quadrant,
The Busters,
Shoche,
Slave,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Evens,
Wasted Youth,
Barry Ungar,
Black Sheep,
Todd Rundgren,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The J.B.'s,
Boz Scaggs,
Mr. Review,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Crispian St. Peters,
Mission of Burma,
The Star Department,
The Selecter,
Tommy Roe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Banda Bassotti,
Audionom,
Lungfish,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Judy Mowatt,
The Sound,
Sound Behaviour,
Crooked Eye,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Adolescents,
Deadbeat,
Agitation Free,
Lyres,
Scratch Acid,
the Slits,
Dorothy Ashby,
Monolake,
The Searchers,
Aswad,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Janne Schatter,
Unrelated Segments,
Bobby Byrd,
Magma,
Eli Mardock,
The Electric Prunes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Amon Düül II,
New York Dolls,
Scott Walker,
Junior Murvin,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.