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 Argentina and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Oneida to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gladiators. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David Axelrod 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mo-Dettes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Black Moon,
Tomorrow,
Silicon Teens,
U.S. Maple,
Cal Tjader,
Lindisfarne,
Motorama,
Agent Orange,
Popol Vuh,
The Durutti Column,
The Smiths,
Bob Dylan,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cameo,
Chris Corsano,
Brick,
The Slits,
Arab on Radar,
K-Klass,
Oneida,
Aloha Tigers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Doors,
The Misunderstood,
Arthur Verocai,
The Smoke,
The Blues Magoos,
The Golliwogs,
Susan Cadogan,
Icehouse,
The Electric Prunes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Colin Newman,
The Blackbyrds,
Television,
Scan 7,
the Normal,
New Age Steppers,
James White and The Blacks,
Qualms,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sexual Harrassment,
Robert Wyatt,
These Immortal Souls,
Iggy Pop,
Kas Product,
Franke,
Ultimate Spinach,
Roger Hodgson,
Todd Rundgren,
Jesper Dahlback,
China Crisis,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Soft Cell,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Flash Fearless,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Drexciya,
The Remains,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
AZ,
Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis, Warren Ellis.
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.