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 Tanzania and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Marvin Gaye to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Young Rascals record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Buzzcocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Ken Boothe,
DNA,
Oblivians,
Metal Thangz,
Toni Rubio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Von Mondo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Outsiders,
Nirvana,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ash Ra Tempel,
EPMD,
the Soft Cell,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pylon,
Cymande,
Harmonia,
Absolute Body Control,
Interpol,
Kerri Chandler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Bootsy Collins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jacob Miller,
The Modern Lovers,
The Fugs,
Monks,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brick,
Connie Case,
Visage,
Funky Four + One,
Quando Quango,
Glenn Branca,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Offenders,
Tommy Roe,
The Barracudas,
Charles Mingus,
Livin' Joy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cecil Taylor,
Suicide,
Ultra Naté,
Freddie Wadling,
Big Daddy Kane,
John Foxx,
the Human League,
The American Breed,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mission of Burma,
Mr. Review,
Blake Baxter,
Bobby Womack,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.