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 Malaysia and from Manila.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the grime 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rotary Connection record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lou Christie,
Swans,
Pet Shop Boys,
Kool Moe Dee,
the Slits,
John Cale,
Magazine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Khruangbin,
Cheater Slicks,
UT,
Isaac Hayes,
Aural Exciters,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Blossom Toes,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Barbara Tucker,
Joyce Sims,
The Black Dice,
Grey Daturas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
James White and The Blacks,
Delon & Dalcan,
Hardrive,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tom Boy,
the Normal,
Smog,
The Tremeloes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Nick Fraelich,
Eden Ahbez,
Electric Light Orchestra,
R.M.O.,
Fela Kuti,
Dawn Penn,
Symarip,
Eli Mardock,
Depeche Mode,
Gong,
Panda Bear,
Avey Tare,
Brick,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Scion,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Unwound,
Crooked Eye,
Cybotron,
Guru Guru,
Model 500,
Marc Almond,
Angry Samoans,
Blake Baxter,
Johnny Clarke,
The Durutti Column,
The Cure,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ten City,
The Doors,
Rapeman,
The Fuzztones,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.