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 Ivory Coast and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the clarinet 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 The Blues Magoos to the electroclash 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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Audionom record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Minor Threat,
The Blues Magoos,
The Fire Engines,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Steve Hackett,
Bootsy Collins,
The Velvet Underground,
Skriet,
Danielle Patucci,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dorothy Ashby,
Hoover,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Nas,
Crispy Ambulance,
Howard Jones,
Yazoo,
Grey Daturas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Quantec,
Jeru the Damaja,
Inner City,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Faraquet,
The Doors,
David Bowie,
Organ,
Laurel Aitken,
Warsaw,
Supertramp,
Roger Hodgson,
Fugazi,
The Busters,
Wire,
Zapp,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Liliput,
Porter Ricks,
Silicon Teens,
Can,
The Flesh Eaters,
Con Funk Shun,
The Last Poets,
Juan Atkins,
The Raincoats,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Niagra,
A Certain Ratio,
Tom Boy,
The Moody Blues,
The Fall,
Monolake,
F. McDonald,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mark Hollis,
Das Ding,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne, L. Decosne.
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.