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 Finland and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Captain Beefheart 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 F. McDonald to the crunk 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Black Moon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rekid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Dave Gahan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Delta 5,
Chrome,
Dennis Brown,
Laurel Aitken,
Lightning Bolt,
Fela Kuti,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hashim,
Byron Stingily,
Hardrive,
Jeff Mills,
Hasil Adkins,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
David Bowie,
Babytalk,
Index,
Los Fastidios,
Flash Fearless,
Matthew Halsall,
Ludus,
Motorama,
The Mojo Men,
Erasure,
Warsaw,
Mark Hollis,
Black Bananas,
Sandy B,
Bluetip,
Graham Central Station,
Television,
The Martian,
China Crisis,
The Litter,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eddi Front,
Animal Collective,
Can,
48th St. Collective,
Ultravox,
Peter and Kerry,
Parry Music,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rapeman,
The Misunderstood,
Traffic Nightmare,
Interpol,
John Cale,
Reagan Youth,
Michelle Simonal,
Derrick Morgan,
Desert Stars,
The Human League,
The Barracudas,
Mr. Review,
Bizarre Inc.,
Judy Mowatt,
Don Cherry,
Tim Buckley,
Rotary Connection,
Severed Heads,
The Golliwogs,
Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys, Fat Boys.
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.