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 Cape Verde and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
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 Whodini to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Half Japanese. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & John Cale record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tom Boy,
Gang of Four,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Public Enemy,
Magazine,
10cc,
Symarip,
Country Teasers,
The Beau Brummels,
Franke,
FM Einheit,
James White and The Blacks,
Charles Mingus,
Wings,
Brick,
Reuben Wilson,
Chris & Cosey,
Bob Dylan,
Ronnie Foster,
Connie Case,
R.M.O.,
Talk Talk,
Unwound,
OOIOO,
Urselle,
Joey Negro,
Pylon,
The Fuzztones,
Dark Day,
Derrick Morgan,
Nirvana,
Hoover,
Matthew Halsall,
Drexciya,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Massinfluence,
The Music Machine,
Boredoms,
Con Funk Shun,
The Knickerbockers,
Harpers Bizarre,
New Age Steppers,
Severed Heads,
Moby Grape,
Gerry Rafferty,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Gap Band,
Mandrill,
the Normal,
Erasure,
Piero Umiliani,
Harry Pussy,
Crash Course in Science,
Gichy Dan,
Sexual Harrassment,
a-ha,
Joyce Sims,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Soft Cell,
The Angels of Light,
Altered Images,
Tomorrow,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.