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 Suriname and from Manchester.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
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 Public Image Ltd. to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Days. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Grauzone,
The Monochrome Set,
Eve St. Jones,
Funkadelic,
Infiniti,
The Birthday Party,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Ronnie Foster,
Joey Negro,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Bobby Byrd,
Minnie Riperton,
Duran Duran,
X-101,
the Sonics,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Delta 5,
Groovy Waters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gang Gang Dance,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lou Christie,
Ornette Coleman,
Roxette,
Joyce Sims,
the Human League,
Kenny Larkin,
Letta Mbulu,
Altered Images,
Drexciya,
The American Breed,
Au Pairs,
Boz Scaggs,
Sun City Girls,
Ultravox,
Amon Düül II,
Pagans,
Mandrill,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dirtbombs,
Underground Resistance,
Mark Hollis,
Schoolly D,
Todd Terry,
Vainqueur,
Crime,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bush Tetras,
Darondo,
Ice-T,
Hot Snakes,
The Electric Prunes,
Niagra,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sällskapet,
Delon & Dalcan,
Soft Machine,
Skriet,
Urselle,
Avey Tare,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.