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 Netherlands and from Madrid.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 organ 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 Angels of Light to the electroclash 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sex Pistols record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Icehouse,
Kenny Larkin,
Oblivians,
Wally Richardson,
Malaria!,
Alton Ellis,
Tropical Tobacco,
Das Ding,
Quantec,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Glenn Branca,
The Seeds,
Dennis Brown,
DNA,
Fela Kuti,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Angels of Light,
Sparks,
China Crisis,
June of 44,
Lower 48,
The Misunderstood,
Bobby Byrd,
Sixth Finger,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gastr Del Sol,
Sarah Menescal,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mandrill,
John Foxx,
Josef K,
Organ,
Cheater Slicks,
The Beau Brummels,
Siglo XX,
The Trojans,
Lou Reed,
The Modern Lovers,
The Moleskins,
F. McDonald,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Boz Scaggs,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Minutemen,
Metal Thangz,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Laurel Aitken,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Techniques,
Dark Day,
Nas,
The Monochrome Set,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marine Girls,
Goldenarms,
Colin Newman,
Bill Wells,
The Black Dice,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.