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 Philippines and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Motions to the techno 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
China Crisis,
Guru Guru,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Offenders,
Tropical Tobacco,
Kaleidoscope,
The Dirtbombs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Buckinghams,
Masters at Work,
Flamin' Groovies,
Thee Headcoats,
Freddie Wadling,
Bobby Sherman,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Surgeon,
Aswad,
Soul Sonic Force,
Scrapy,
Intrusion,
Tears for Fears,
Gang Green,
Stiv Bators,
Skriet,
Iggy Pop,
Average White Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
DNA,
Visage,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Dead C,
Boz Scaggs,
The Slackers,
Hasil Adkins,
Mary Jane Girls,
Brass Construction,
Man Parrish,
Arab on Radar,
Outsiders,
Frankie Knuckles,
Prince Buster,
The Vogues,
Bobby Byrd,
Bob Dylan,
Los Fastidios,
The Gories,
Malaria!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New Order,
Eric Dolphy,
Joey Negro,
Subhumans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Chrome,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Robert Wyatt,
Danielle Patucci,
Big Daddy Kane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five, The Dave Clark Five.
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.