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 East Timor and from Jakarta.
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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 synthesizer 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Doors. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Litter,
Tommy Roe,
Tres Demented,
Subhumans,
Lakeside,
Cal Tjader,
Janne Schatter,
Man Eating Sloth,
New Age Steppers,
Pantaleimon,
Icehouse,
F. McDonald,
The Martian,
Ronan,
The Durutti Column,
Blancmange,
Jawbox,
Sarah Menescal,
Severed Heads,
Slick Rick,
Gang of Four,
Nik Kershaw,
The Zeros,
Ituana,
Index,
Lalann,
Iggy Pop,
Shuggie Otis,
Blake Baxter,
Toni Rubio,
Mantronix,
Ossler,
Patti Smith,
Bauhaus,
Cheater Slicks,
Deakin,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Los Fastidios,
Agent Orange,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ken Boothe,
Amazonics,
Easy Going,
Mars,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gabor Szabo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Siglo XX,
DJ Sneak,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Doors,
MC5,
Bluetip,
Eurythmics,
The Evens,
Underground Resistance,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Isaac Hayes,
Youth Brigade,
Matthew Bourne,
The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters, The Toasters.
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.