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 Gambia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Girls At Our Best! to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Organ. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Minny Pops 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Tremeloes,
B.T. Express,
Roy Ayers,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Funkadelic,
Soulsonic Force,
Monks,
Tomorrow,
Tres Demented,
La Düsseldorf,
Porter Ricks,
Yellowson,
Sparks,
Hoover,
Morten Harket,
Yazoo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Suburban Knight,
Soft Cell,
The Wake,
Tom Boy,
Derrick Morgan,
The Busters,
Ituana,
Terry Callier,
The Skatalites,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Von Mondo,
The Electric Prunes,
The American Breed,
Pagans,
Isaac Hayes,
Jacob Miller,
The Blackbyrds,
James Chance & The Contortions,
AZ,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Dave Clark Five,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mars,
The Black Dice,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Nirvana,
Magma,
Letta Mbulu,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Roger Hodgson,
Gang Starr,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joe Smooth,
Warsaw,
These Immortal Souls,
Lindisfarne,
The Searchers,
The Modern Lovers,
Ronan,
Eurythmics,
Nik Kershaw,
Arthur Verocai,
the Association,
Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel, Ash Ra Tempel.
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.