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 Indonesia and from Manchester.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Fatback Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Slackers. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
Barclay James Harvest,
Oneida,
The Durutti Column,
Sister Nancy,
Pierre Henry,
Goldenarms,
Loose Ends,
Dark Day,
The Monks,
One Last Wish,
MC5,
Gong,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Index,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rites of Spring,
Fluxion,
Pantytec,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobby Byrd,
Lungfish,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Outsiders,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Red Krayola,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Radiopuhelimet,
Joensuu 1685,
The Dirtbombs,
The Misunderstood,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Amazonics,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Brass Construction,
Unwound,
The Tremeloes,
Andrew Hill,
Echospace,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Offenders,
Infiniti,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Howard Jones,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bluetip,
The Music Machine,
Make Up,
K-Klass,
Sun City Girls,
Eli Mardock,
The Saints,
Schoolly D,
Negative Approach,
Bad Manners,
Blossom Toes,
Little Man,
Pulsallama,
Jacques Brel,
Peter & Gordon,
The Move,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.