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 Kiribati and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 June Days to the crunk 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Scratch Acid tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed & John Cale 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
ABBA,
Matthew Bourne,
Buzzcocks,
Laurel Aitken,
Rhythm & Sound,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fuzztones,
The American Breed,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Desert Stars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
June of 44,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Radiohead,
The Standells,
Altered Images,
Youth Brigade,
The Offenders,
The Dirtbombs,
The Associates,
A Certain Ratio,
Newcleus,
The Last Poets,
Slave,
Popol Vuh,
David Bowie,
In Retrospect,
Eric Dolphy,
Unrelated Segments,
Bobby Byrd,
The Walker Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
DJ Sneak,
Subhumans,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Gories,
Deakin,
The Smoke,
Adolescents,
The Durutti Column,
Maurizio,
Brand Nubian,
Erasure,
The Knickerbockers,
The Beau Brummels,
Trumans Water,
John Lydon,
Magma,
the Swans,
The Toasters,
Crooked Eye,
Drexciya,
Niagra,
The Neon Judgement,
Carl Craig,
Eddi Front,
Pole,
Tropical Tobacco,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.