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 Sierra Leone and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bizarre Inc. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Grey Daturas,
Minutemen,
The Barracudas,
Au Pairs,
Matthew Halsall,
The Five Americans,
Saccharine Trust,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Toni Rubio,
Agent Orange,
Organ,
The Pretty Things,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Dave Clark Five,
Lou Christie,
Section 25,
Harmonia,
Spoonie Gee,
Maleditus Sound,
The Sound,
China Crisis,
Absolute Body Control,
Khruangbin,
World's Most,
Deakin,
Sonic Youth,
Frankie Knuckles,
Symarip,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lungfish,
Clear Light,
Eric Dolphy,
Marc Almond,
The Smoke,
A Certain Ratio,
Scrapy,
the Slits,
Dark Day,
Bob Dylan,
Pantaleimon,
Boredoms,
The Dead C,
Unrelated Segments,
The Offenders,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Searchers,
The Slits,
Boogie Down Productions,
Arcadia,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Walker Brothers,
the Normal,
Electric Prunes,
The Dirtbombs,
The Music Machine,
Lalann,
Audionom,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Yazoo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.