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 Uruguay and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Walker Brothers to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Panda Bear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a cv313 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Lou Christie,
The Birthday Party,
Television,
Howard Jones,
Iggy Pop,
Pylon,
Kurtis Blow,
A Certain Ratio,
L. Decosne,
Todd Terry,
The Mummies,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Cymande,
DJ Sneak,
The Smoke,
Soulsonic Force,
The Trojans,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Black Dice,
Lyres,
Audionom,
Gang Starr,
Alice Coltrane,
F. McDonald,
Jawbox,
The Human League,
Index,
Brand Nubian,
The New Christs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jacques Brel,
The Toasters,
X-Ray Spex,
Flash Fearless,
Malaria!,
Scion,
the Sonics,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sex Pistols,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Erykah Badu,
Flipper,
Royal Trux,
Soft Cell,
The Neon Judgement,
Banda Bassotti,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Quantec,
Pagans,
Magma,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Blake Baxter,
Moebius,
The Real Kids,
Soft Machine,
Joyce Sims,
Faraquet,
The Index, The Index, The Index, The Index.
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.