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 Mauritania and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Wake to the rock 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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy 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 '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 Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Joy Division,
Mission of Burma,
Kayak,
Aural Exciters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Leonard Cohen,
Adolescents,
Hoover,
Yusef Lateef,
The Star Department,
Eden Ahbez,
Niagra,
Cheater Slicks,
June of 44,
Altered Images,
Bad Manners,
The Doors,
Grey Daturas,
The Sonics,
The Slackers,
Iggy Pop,
The Mojo Men,
John Foxx,
The Sound,
Howard Jones,
Cluster,
Kurtis Blow,
The Kinks,
Lindisfarne,
Shuggie Otis,
Khruangbin,
Boogie Down Productions,
Urselle,
Traffic Nightmare,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Jawbox,
The Toasters,
Surgeon,
Arcadia,
Stockholm Monsters,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Wally Richardson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Marshall Jefferson,
Joe Finger,
Glambeats Corp.,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pagans,
Das Ding,
Bobby Sherman,
Ossler,
Kerri Chandler,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Arab on Radar,
Magma,
Infiniti,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.