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 Rwanda and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Stockholm.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Icehouse to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
a-ha,
The Count Five,
Matthew Bourne,
Sugar Minott,
Scan 7,
Albert Ayler,
Soft Cell,
The Black Dice,
Charles Mingus,
the Human League,
Jeff Lynne,
Faust,
Sight & Sound,
The Real Kids,
Silicon Teens,
Rapeman,
Eric Copeland,
Smog,
Skriet,
cv313,
Fugazi,
Hot Snakes,
Cluster,
Interpol,
The Modern Lovers,
Pantaleimon,
Fluxion,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Divine Comedy,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Altered Images,
Zapp,
Lyres,
Joey Negro,
Panda Bear,
Janne Schatter,
Supertramp,
Eurythmics,
Stereo Dub,
Urselle,
Stockholm Monsters,
Joy Division,
Sonny Sharrock,
Quadrant,
Delon & Dalcan,
Moby Grape,
Scott Walker,
Ultra Naté,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dave Gahan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Chris & Cosey,
Stetsasonic,
Alison Limerick,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Cybotron,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Seeds,
The New Christs,
Lalann,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.