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 Suriname and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Kinks to the electroclash 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 Minutemen. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The J.B.'s,
Tres Demented,
Ultra Naté,
Laurel Aitken,
Mars,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Monolake,
Jacques Brel,
Main Source,
Nick Fraelich,
Excepter,
Faraquet,
Maleditus Sound,
John Lydon,
Suburban Knight,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Blake Baxter,
Jimmy McGriff,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nils Olav,
The Stooges,
Curtis Mayfield,
Popol Vuh,
The Wake,
The Modern Lovers,
L. Decosne,
Los Fastidios,
Bob Dylan,
Quadrant,
Mantronix,
David McCallum,
Vladislav Delay,
Gong,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Sister Nancy,
Magma,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
FM Einheit,
The Count Five,
Alison Limerick,
Danielle Patucci,
Eden Ahbez,
Oblivians,
Terrestrial Tones,
D'Angelo,
Severed Heads,
New Order,
Warren Ellis,
E-Dancer,
Prince Buster,
Donny Hathaway,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kurtis Blow,
Ralphi Rosario,
Soul II Soul,
PIL,
Sun City Girls,
John Foxx,
Albert Ayler,
Jeru the Damaja,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.