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 Ethiopia and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 Philadelphia and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fugs to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All AZ tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a JFA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Remains,
The Seeds,
Franke,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Warsaw,
John Cale,
Piero Umiliani,
Bill Wells,
Pere Ubu,
Accadde A,
Johnny Clarke,
Amon Düül,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Modern Lovers,
Chris & Cosey,
Marc Almond,
Heaven 17,
The Velvet Underground,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Letta Mbulu,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Associates,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Sight & Sound,
Swell Maps,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Ultimate Spinach,
The American Breed,
Lou Reed,
The Evens,
Mars,
Newcleus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ponytail,
The Alarm Clocks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lyres,
Andrew Hill,
Harry Pussy,
Robert Görl,
The Trojans,
the Human League,
Cheater Slicks,
DJ Style,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang Gang Dance,
Schoolly D,
Stiv Bators,
Warren Ellis,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Young Rascals,
DNA,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Niagra,
Stetsasonic,
Shuggie Otis,
T.S.O.L.,
Slick Rick,
The Beau Brummels,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.