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 Serbia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Reagan Youth to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Searchers. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Frankie Knuckles,
James White and The Blacks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Harmonia,
The Fugs,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Shuggie Otis,
Joensuu 1685,
The Invisible,
The Monks,
Outsiders,
The Electric Prunes,
David Bowie,
Black Moon,
Harpers Bizarre,
Massinfluence,
Maurizio,
Niagra,
Moebius,
The Misunderstood,
Letta Mbulu,
MDC,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Beau Brummels,
Rhythm & Sound,
Arab on Radar,
Nation of Ulysses,
Mr. Review,
the Bar-Kays,
Idris Muhammad,
Monks,
Nick Fraelich,
Jacob Miller,
E-Dancer,
Gregory Isaacs,
Warren Ellis,
Mark Hollis,
OOIOO,
Technova,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Janne Schatter,
Joyce Sims,
John Foxx,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Soft Cell,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Stooges,
Freddie Wadling,
Faraquet,
The Young Rascals,
Bill Near,
Josef K,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Doobie Brothers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jawbox,
The Busters,
Wings, Wings, Wings, Wings.
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.