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 Kuwait and from Bologna.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Roxette 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 The Modern Lovers. All the underground hits.
All Suburban Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Bad Manners,
Moby Grape,
Jawbox,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Barbara Tucker,
China Crisis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sällskapet,
Kerrie Biddell,
Roxy Music,
Stiv Bators,
Rekid,
Pantaleimon,
Flipper,
Mary Jane Girls,
Trumans Water,
The United States of America,
Infiniti,
Monks,
David Bowie,
The Wake,
Negative Approach,
Archie Shepp,
Arthur Verocai,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Harmonia,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ronnie Foster,
Nas,
Q65,
Khruangbin,
The Moody Blues,
Lungfish,
Avey Tare,
Steve Hackett,
Dark Day,
The Fortunes,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Joe Smooth,
Scientists,
The Beau Brummels,
Guru Guru,
This Heat,
In Retrospect,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Radiohead,
The Velvet Underground,
Section 25,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Susan Cadogan,
Minutemen,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Victims,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Unwound,
Rites of Spring,
Groovy Waters,
The Dead C,
Motorama,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.