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 Austria and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Salvador.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Fortunes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Wally Richardson,
Electric Prunes,
KRS-One,
Agitation Free,
The Fuzztones,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Tropical Tobacco,
Goldenarms,
Vainqueur,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Hot Snakes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Chrome,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Metal Thangz,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
F. McDonald,
Second Layer,
The Victims,
Buzzcocks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Scientists,
The Fugs,
The Slits,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dorothy Ashby,
AZ,
The Pretty Things,
Index,
The Index,
The Gun Club,
Yusef Lateef,
Connie Case,
Can,
L. Decosne,
Nirvana,
The Knickerbockers,
CMW,
The Busters,
Judy Mowatt,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Scrapy,
Main Source,
Bobby Womack,
Con Funk Shun,
Jacob Miller,
Black Moon,
Laurel Aitken,
Oblivians,
Los Fastidios,
Intrusion,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jacques Brel,
Deepchord,
Panda Bear,
Big Daddy Kane,
China Crisis,
The Saints,
ABBA,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.