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 Laos and from Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Mexico City.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gang Gang Dance to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Goldenarms. All the underground hits.
All Angels of Light & Akron/Family tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacques Brel record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultra Naté,
Liliput,
David Bowie,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Brand Nubian,
Oneida,
the Association,
The Pop Group,
Cameo,
Hardrive,
Bobby Byrd,
Alison Limerick,
Dave Gahan,
Fugazi,
Boogie Down Productions,
Zero Boys,
Kas Product,
X-Ray Spex,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
ABC,
Funkadelic,
The Searchers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Archie Shepp,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Tommy Roe,
MDC,
The Walker Brothers,
Sight & Sound,
Inner City,
The Move,
Yazoo,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cymande,
Harmonia,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Young Rascals,
Audionom,
Roxy Music,
Warren Ellis,
Kenny Larkin,
Bluetip,
Stiv Bators,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Tremeloes,
Yusef Lateef,
The Residents,
Quadrant,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Zeros,
La Düsseldorf,
Terry Callier,
Supertramp,
The J.B.'s,
The Smiths,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sugar Minott,
Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth, Joe Smooth.
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.