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 Colombia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Chrome 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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All Graham Central Station tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Albert Ayler 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
John Holt,
Ice-T,
Joey Negro,
Liliput,
The Residents,
Bob Dylan,
The Walker Brothers,
The Associates,
Banda Bassotti,
Pierre Henry,
Q and Not U,
Althea and Donna,
Severed Heads,
Surgeon,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Buzzcocks,
Malaria!,
Fluxion,
Suicide,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Matthew Halsall,
the Sonics,
Groovy Waters,
Agent Orange,
The Dirtbombs,
ABBA,
Blancmange,
The Gladiators,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alton Ellis,
Symarip,
Bobby Sherman,
Brothers Johnson,
Wally Richardson,
Ludus,
Gastr Del Sol,
FM Einheit,
Lucky Dragons,
Michelle Simonal,
Alice Coltrane,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
X-Ray Spex,
Warren Ellis,
Flipper,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kayak,
The United States of America,
Average White Band,
Stiv Bators,
Susan Cadogan,
Skarface,
The Cowsills,
Deepchord,
The Black Dice,
Iggy Pop,
Gil Scott Heron,
Erasure,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.