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 Germany and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Surgeon. All the underground hits.
All Country Teasers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Real Kids,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Masters at Work,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Birthday Party,
Bill Wells,
Derrick May,
Lou Christie,
The Dead C,
The Black Dice,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Duran Duran,
The Slackers,
Maleditus Sound,
Matthew Halsall,
The Flesh Eaters,
Wings,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Warsaw,
Alice Coltrane,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lou Reed,
Gang Green,
Kevin Saunderson,
Yaz,
Jesper Dahlback,
Scientists,
Minutemen,
The Star Department,
X-Ray Spex,
Kurtis Blow,
Main Source,
Delon & Dalcan,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Victims,
Todd Rundgren,
Lightning Bolt,
Babytalk,
David Bowie,
Tubeway Army,
UT,
Juan Atkins,
Sun City Girls,
Rites of Spring,
Youth Brigade,
John Holt,
the Swans,
Throbbing Gristle,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Popol Vuh,
Gong,
Chris & Cosey,
Man Eating Sloth,
Neu!,
The Doors,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.