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 Grenada and from Bologna.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 guitar 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tubeway Army. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arcadia 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joey Negro,
Metal Thangz,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Can,
the Slits,
Todd Terry,
Slick Rick,
A Certain Ratio,
Malaria!,
The Real Kids,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
New Age Steppers,
Goldenarms,
Alton Ellis,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Excepter,
Skaos,
The Gories,
Warren Ellis,
Flash Fearless,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bronski Beat,
The Zeros,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Quantec,
Talk Talk,
Maurizio,
Tears for Fears,
Janne Schatter,
Gil Scott Heron,
Minutemen,
Jimmy McGriff,
Maleditus Sound,
Cluster,
Gang Green,
The Barracudas,
Ultimate Spinach,
Bush Tetras,
Arthur Verocai,
June of 44,
The Beau Brummels,
Scott Walker,
The Cure,
Clear Light,
Sugar Minott,
Tomorrow,
Harry Pussy,
Public Enemy,
B.T. Express,
The Music Machine,
Cecil Taylor,
Johnny Clarke,
Jacques Brel,
Neil Young,
Man Eating Sloth,
Vainqueur,
The Gladiators,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
the Swans,
Andrew Hill,
Ohio Players,
Chris Corsano,
Robert Görl,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.