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 Nauru and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dirtbombs to the funk 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 Loose Ends. All the underground hits.
All The Star Department tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joyce Sims,
Warsaw,
The Zeros,
The Fall,
Stockholm Monsters,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Skriet,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Barracudas,
DNA,
Alphaville,
Bluetip,
Jerry's Kids,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Oneida,
Hot Snakes,
Mr. Review,
Isaac Hayes,
Bush Tetras,
Harmonia,
Idris Muhammad,
Johnny Osbourne,
Essential Logic,
Minnie Riperton,
Aloha Tigers,
Lyres,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Television,
Bobby Womack,
Scientists,
MC5,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ronnie Foster,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Clear Light,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Doors,
Scion,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sex Pistols,
Accadde A,
Nico,
Al Stewart,
Derrick Morgan,
Youth Brigade,
Animal Collective,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The United States of America,
Scott Walker,
the Normal,
Symarip,
Excepter,
Junior Murvin,
Funkadelic,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Black Moon,
Howard Jones,
Neu!,
Crash Course in Science,
The Slits,
Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine, Soft Machine.
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.