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 Costa Rica and from Paris.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 güiro 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 Throbbing Gristle to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Neon Judgement. All the underground hits.
All Siouxsie and the Banshees tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers Ubiquity record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lindisfarne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
The United States of America,
The Blackbyrds,
Monolake,
Brothers Johnson,
Joyce Sims,
Kayak,
Pet Shop Boys,
Matthew Bourne,
The Dirtbombs,
Reuben Wilson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Groovy Waters,
June of 44,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Shuggie Otis,
Freddie Wadling,
Crash Course in Science,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kevin Saunderson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Spandau Ballet,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Grass Roots,
These Immortal Souls,
Buzzcocks,
Gang Starr,
Gang of Four,
Bizarre Inc.,
Dead Boys,
cv313,
Audionom,
The Durutti Column,
The Index,
Moby Grape,
Subhumans,
Urselle,
New Order,
Joensuu 1685,
Wolf Eyes,
Ultra Naté,
Warren Ellis,
The Last Poets,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Arthur Verocai,
The Shadows of Knight,
Masters at Work,
Clear Light,
Angry Samoans,
Procol Harum,
Howard Jones,
Joe Smooth,
The Standells,
The Alarm Clocks,
Robert Wyatt,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Cluster,
Scrapy,
Eve St. Jones,
X-101,
The Neon Judgement,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.