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 Nicaragua and from Edmonton.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 synthesizer 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 Eden Ahbez to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Glenn Branca. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kas Product 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moby Grape record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zero Boys,
The Smiths,
Swans,
Kenny Larkin,
Arcadia,
Skarface,
The Count Five,
Ash Ra Tempel,
MC5,
The Raincoats,
Harry Pussy,
R.M.O.,
Visage,
Kas Product,
Magazine,
Charles Mingus,
Deakin,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Index,
James White and The Blacks,
Joyce Sims,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Trumans Water,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sex Pistols,
ABC,
Pharoah Sanders,
Stiv Bators,
Sister Nancy,
The Tremeloes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fall,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Monks,
The Birthday Party,
Severed Heads,
David Axelrod,
Lungfish,
The Pop Group,
The Gories,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Cowsills,
June Days,
Blancmange,
Brick,
The Blackbyrds,
Sixth Finger,
Man Parrish,
Pantaleimon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Yaz,
Flash Fearless,
Rhythm & Sound,
DJ Sneak,
Letta Mbulu,
B.T. Express,
Smog,
Scientists,
The Associates,
Bootsy Collins,
Index, Index, Index, 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.