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 Benin and from Paris.
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 Spokane and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba 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 Godley & Creme 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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
the Normal,
the Association,
The Real Kids,
Youth Brigade,
The Barracudas,
Drexciya,
Slave,
T. Rex,
Y Pants,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Soulsonic Force,
Yellowson,
Kerri Chandler,
Minnie Riperton,
Bang On A Can,
David Axelrod,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bronski Beat,
DJ Style,
Pussy Galore,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Görl,
DNA,
Wire,
The Pretty Things,
The Residents,
Audionom,
a-ha,
The Doors,
ABC,
Faust,
Steve Hackett,
Arthur Verocai,
Goldenarms,
Amon Düül II,
Tres Demented,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mantronix,
Toni Rubio,
Alice Coltrane,
The American Breed,
Jacob Miller,
Grey Daturas,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Siglo XX,
Michelle Simonal,
The Dirtbombs,
Shoche,
Danielle Patucci,
Terry Callier,
Delon & Dalcan,
Alison Limerick,
Popol Vuh,
Aaron Thompson,
Tom Boy,
Trumans Water,
Pantytec,
Pere Ubu,
Anakelly,
Scott Walker,
Intrusion,
Ronan, Ronan, Ronan, Ronan.
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.