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 Oman and from Accra.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 CMW to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All The Evens tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Lungfish,
The Dirtbombs,
The Busters,
Fugazi,
Donny Hathaway,
Stereo Dub,
Audionom,
Maleditus Sound,
Warsaw,
Matthew Halsall,
Stiv Bators,
Bobby Sherman,
Silicon Teens,
The Litter,
Bush Tetras,
Don Cherry,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Monks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Monks,
The Last Poets,
Hot Snakes,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Al Stewart,
The Velvet Underground,
Lou Reed,
Curtis Mayfield,
Moebius,
Moby Grape,
Gabor Szabo,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camouflage,
Sexual Harrassment,
Wasted Youth,
Pere Ubu,
Roxette,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Slits,
The Fortunes,
Crispy Ambulance,
R.M.O.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
L. Decosne,
Sex Pistols,
CMW,
One Last Wish,
Tom Boy,
Henry Cow,
Joe Smooth,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
June of 44,
10cc,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joe Finger,
The Mojo Men,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Fat Boys,
Shoche,
Bang On A Can,
kango's stein massive,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.