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 Mozambique and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Litter to the funk 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Colin Newman 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rod Modell,
Toni Rubio,
Babytalk,
The Beau Brummels,
Gabor Szabo,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sonny Sharrock,
Q65,
The Cosmic Jokers,
John Cale,
Black Flag,
8 Eyed Spy,
Malaria!,
Cheater Slicks,
Deakin,
Urselle,
Masters at Work,
CMW,
Surgeon,
Jacques Brel,
June Days,
Ken Boothe,
MC5,
X-102,
Franke,
The Offenders,
Neu!,
The Sonics,
Wings,
Public Enemy,
Boredoms,
48th St. Collective,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Harry Pussy,
Severed Heads,
Eve St. Jones,
The United States of America,
Minor Threat,
Bluetip,
The Divine Comedy,
Unwound,
Slave,
Cybotron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Pagans,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Prince Buster,
Rotary Connection,
The Victims,
Kaleidoscope,
Ornette Coleman,
Zero Boys,
FM Einheit,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Rites of Spring,
Buzzcocks,
Lakeside,
Hoover,
Crime,
Nico,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
David McCallum,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.