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 China and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 8 Eyed Spy to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Erasure. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dark Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Average White Band,
Amon Düül,
Man Parrish,
Gang Gang Dance,
Josef K,
Vainqueur,
Grauzone,
The Fire Engines,
Eddi Front,
Severed Heads,
B.T. Express,
The Cure,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Hood,
The Kinks,
The Blues Magoos,
Half Japanese,
Newcleus,
The Velvet Underground,
Brass Construction,
Porter Ricks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Thee Headcoats,
Graham Central Station,
Liliput,
Girls At Our Best!,
Flamin' Groovies,
Charles Mingus,
Max Romeo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Erasure,
Mantronix,
Judy Mowatt,
Heaven 17,
Bad Manners,
The Fall,
Wire,
Boredoms,
Cheater Slicks,
The Barracudas,
The Doors,
Bootsy Collins,
Jerry's Kids,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Andrew Hill,
Rod Modell,
Susan Cadogan,
Joensuu 1685,
Swell Maps,
UT,
Ultravox,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Crash Course in Science,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scan 7,
Amazonics,
Parry Music,
Sam Rivers,
Sarah Menescal,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wings,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.