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 New Zealand and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Soft Cell to the crunk 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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Sex Pistols,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Thompson Twins,
The Cramps,
the Germs,
Gabor Szabo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Alison Limerick,
E-Dancer,
The Names,
Terrestrial Tones,
Deepchord,
Chris Corsano,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Donny Hathaway,
Bush Tetras,
Connie Case,
Dead Boys,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Sound,
Cal Tjader,
The Dave Clark Five,
Drive Like Jehu,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sam Rivers,
Maleditus Sound,
Derrick May,
Oblivians,
Buzzcocks,
Minutemen,
Interpol,
Kas Product,
Guru Guru,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jawbox,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eden Ahbez,
Ultra Naté,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minnie Riperton,
The Pretty Things,
T.S.O.L.,
Arab on Radar,
Davy DMX,
Visage,
Marshall Jefferson,
Animal Collective,
Lungfish,
Cameo,
The Cure,
Negative Approach,
Au Pairs,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Gladiators,
Radiopuhelimet,
Wally Richardson,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tears for Fears,
Donald Byrd,
The Smiths,
Boogie Down Productions,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.