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 Dominican Republic and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 Blues Magoos to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All The Fugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jandek,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pylon,
Soft Cell,
The Moleskins,
R.M.O.,
Henry Cow,
The Leaves,
48th St. Collective,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ludus,
Big Daddy Kane,
10cc,
Colin Newman,
Easy Going,
Blossom Toes,
Dark Day,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Chris & Cosey,
Livin' Joy,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Au Pairs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
DNA,
Sex Pistols,
The Martian,
Shuggie Otis,
Das Ding,
Aural Exciters,
Ultravox,
The Dirtbombs,
Rosa Yemen,
ABBA,
Bronski Beat,
The Residents,
The Slackers,
Echospace,
Amon Düül II,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cybotron,
Gang Green,
Sister Nancy,
The Black Dice,
Vainqueur,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Arcadia,
The Fire Engines,
Albert Ayler,
The Evens,
Heaven 17,
Kayak,
Jawbox,
Magma,
Maleditus Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lungfish,
Connie Case,
MDC,
The Angels of Light,
Warsaw,
The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots, The Grass Roots.
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.