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 Latvia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Michael McDonald 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 Crispian St. Peters to the electroclash 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nico record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
The Standells,
Bang On A Can,
Royal Trux,
Minutemen,
These Immortal Souls,
Qualms,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Marcia Griffiths,
Don Cherry,
DJ Style,
The Happenings,
The Vogues,
The Pop Group,
Blancmange,
Curtis Mayfield,
Harry Pussy,
The Durutti Column,
Minny Pops,
Lakeside,
ABC,
Ponytail,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Y Pants,
Sam Rivers,
Grauzone,
Hashim,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Slits,
Young Marble Giants,
Animal Collective,
Lou Reed,
Barrington Levy,
Cecil Taylor,
Simply Red,
Gang Green,
Stiv Bators,
Kayak,
The Leaves,
Little Man,
Blake Baxter,
Susan Cadogan,
Dennis Brown,
The Toasters,
Agitation Free,
Hardrive,
Peter and Kerry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Chris Corsano,
Motorama,
Minnie Riperton,
Sparks,
Deepchord,
Symarip,
Whodini,
the Association,
Glenn Branca,
John Lydon,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Soul II Soul,
John Foxx,
Circle Jerks,
Trumans Water,
JFA, JFA, JFA, JFA.
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.