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 Liberia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 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 Soft Cell 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 Arcadia. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Neil Young,
Outsiders,
Unwound,
Jandek,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Tubeway Army,
Donny Hathaway,
CMW,
The Searchers,
Oblivians,
Agitation Free,
Boredoms,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Buckinghams,
LL Cool J,
The Evens,
Sarah Menescal,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Ponytail,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Harpers Bizarre,
Terry Callier,
D'Angelo,
Essential Logic,
The Last Poets,
Crooked Eye,
Quadrant,
Iggy Pop,
Gang Green,
Infiniti,
Ornette Coleman,
The Gladiators,
Das Ding,
Lucky Dragons,
The Leaves,
Flash Fearless,
Cal Tjader,
Kerrie Biddell,
Thompson Twins,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Panda Bear,
Bluetip,
The Associates,
Todd Rundgren,
Camberwell Now,
Los Fastidios,
Pharoah Sanders,
B.T. Express,
The Victims,
Derrick May,
Khruangbin,
The Index,
Scratch Acid,
Bob Dylan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Interpol,
Yellowson,
Byron Stingily,
Tears for Fears,
Soft Machine,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.