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 Liechtenstein and from Calgary.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Rod Modell to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scott Walker + Sunn O))) 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scientists,
The New Christs,
T. Rex,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sex Pistols,
Mr. Review,
Spandau Ballet,
Anthony Braxton,
Bob Dylan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lou Christie,
Rod Modell,
Ronan,
Supertramp,
Goldenarms,
Davy DMX,
Morten Harket,
The Real Kids,
One Last Wish,
ABC,
Jacob Miller,
The Alarm Clocks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Peter & Gordon,
Donny Hathaway,
Heaven 17,
Liliput,
Anakelly,
the Slits,
F. McDonald,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Eve St. Jones,
Piero Umiliani,
Wally Richardson,
cv313,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Rekid,
Joyce Sims,
Minny Pops,
Barrington Levy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
David Bowie,
Agent Orange,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Lou Reed,
The J.B.'s,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Circle Jerks,
The Offenders,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Golliwogs,
Brick,
The Birthday Party,
ABBA,
Half Japanese,
Graham Central Station,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Knickerbockers,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.