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 Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 clarinet 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 Niagra to the dance 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker + Sunn O))) tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispy Ambulance,
Rod Modell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Crime,
Graham Central Station,
Aaron Thompson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jawbox,
New York Dolls,
L. Decosne,
The Cramps,
The Dirtbombs,
Nils Olav,
Guru Guru,
A Certain Ratio,
Magazine,
Gastr Del Sol,
Second Layer,
Bluetip,
Danielle Patucci,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Excepter,
Donald Byrd,
Tom Boy,
Soul Sonic Force,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Barrington Levy,
Lyres,
Ludus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Pretty Things,
10cc,
Massinfluence,
Chris Corsano,
The Slits,
DNA,
Moby Grape,
Avey Tare,
Sandy B,
Howard Jones,
Pantytec,
Nik Kershaw,
Minny Pops,
Grey Daturas,
The Knickerbockers,
Cecil Taylor,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Index,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ronan,
Vainqueur,
Sex Pistols,
The Monks,
The Star Department,
Gong,
Babytalk,
Trumans Water,
Alison Limerick,
MDC,
Eric B and Rakim,
Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew, Vaughan Mason & Crew.
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.