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 Jordan and from Shanghai.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Deakin to the techno 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 Fat Boys. All the underground hits.
All Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Janne Schatter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
The Victims,
Moebius,
Joey Negro,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ice-T,
10cc,
Wolf Eyes,
Whodini,
Aswad,
The Electric Prunes,
Joensuu 1685,
Buzzcocks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Masters at Work,
Magazine,
The Barracudas,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Move,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alphaville,
Shuggie Otis,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Section 25,
World's Most,
Wings,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Morten Harket,
Duran Duran,
Q and Not U,
Tropical Tobacco,
Motorama,
Royal Trux,
Terrestrial Tones,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bang On A Can,
Anakelly,
L. Decosne,
Carl Craig,
The Happenings,
Glenn Branca,
Eve St. Jones,
The Last Poets,
Model 500,
Newcleus,
Subhumans,
Black Flag,
The Mummies,
The Gladiators,
Scientists,
Absolute Body Control,
The Human League,
Isaac Hayes,
Bauhaus,
The Misunderstood,
Fugazi,
Cluster,
Theoretical Girls,
Maurizio,
Bob Dylan,
Funky Four + One,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.