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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from New York.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 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 Marc Almond to the electroclash 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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Anakelly tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glenn Branca record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
The Searchers,
Scrapy,
The Seeds,
The Fall,
Henry Cow,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Sex Pistols,
Ornette Coleman,
Clear Light,
Slave,
Letta Mbulu,
The Gories,
Angry Samoans,
Supertramp,
Maleditus Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Smog,
David Axelrod,
Chris & Cosey,
Jesper Dahlback,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Susan Cadogan,
David Bowie,
Interpol,
Brass Construction,
The Count Five,
Ohio Players,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Agitation Free,
Bobby Sherman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Niagra,
Radio Birdman,
The Misunderstood,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Tremeloes,
Talk Talk,
The Evens,
Rosa Yemen,
New Order,
Con Funk Shun,
Severed Heads,
Oblivians,
Man Eating Sloth,
PIL,
MC5,
The Fuzztones,
The Moleskins,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Real Kids,
Marc Almond,
Joe Finger,
Soft Machine,
Eden Ahbez,
Alphaville,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Average White Band,
Fluxion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282, Thinking Fellers Union Local 282.
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.