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 Nauru and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the marimba 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 Ajijia Myrayebe 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 The Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sister Nancy 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?
The Neon Judgement,
Joy Division,
the Soft Cell,
Laurel Aitken,
Deadbeat,
Pylon,
Grauzone,
Yusef Lateef,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Desert Stars,
Simply Red,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Average White Band,
Suburban Knight,
Rapeman,
John Lydon,
Steve Hackett,
Ice-T,
Sound Behaviour,
Neil Young,
The Blackbyrds,
The Pretty Things,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Jeff Mills,
The Slackers,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bang On A Can,
Chris Corsano,
Gang of Four,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Outsiders,
Buzzcocks,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Can,
The Knickerbockers,
Dawn Penn,
Kurtis Blow,
Eden Ahbez,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Surgeon,
Bobby Sherman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Grey Daturas,
Main Source,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Qualms,
Blake Baxter,
Terry Callier,
Brass Construction,
Peter and Kerry,
Lebanon Hanover,
Avey Tare,
The Misunderstood,
Soulsonic Force,
the Association,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Agent Orange,
Bush Tetras,
Subhumans,
Fad Gadget,
Royal Trux,
Stiv Bators,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.