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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Edmonton.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Barry Ungar to the rap 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Lungfish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Motorama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Fear,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Warsaw,
Sight & Sound,
New York Dolls,
Rotary Connection,
Au Pairs,
Das Ding,
Magazine,
Funky Four + One,
Marvin Gaye,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Fugs,
CMW,
Niagra,
The Kinks,
The Move,
The J.B.'s,
China Crisis,
Morten Harket,
Piero Umiliani,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jeff Mills,
Metal Thangz,
Michelle Simonal,
Patti Smith,
Oblivians,
Severed Heads,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pole,
Nico,
Todd Rundgren,
The Walker Brothers,
The Dirtbombs,
Ornette Coleman,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bill Wells,
Radio Birdman,
Todd Terry,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Alphaville,
X-101,
Yazoo,
Oneida,
Chris & Cosey,
Deepchord,
The Young Rascals,
Donald Byrd,
Porter Ricks,
Pantytec,
Cluster,
Spandau Ballet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Altered Images,
Jandek,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.