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 United States and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 arpeggiator 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 Echospace to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sarah Menescal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rekid,
Eden Ahbez,
Faust,
Sällskapet,
Ice-T,
Henry Cow,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jeru the Damaja,
the Association,
Neu!,
The Real Kids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Whodini,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jerry's Kids,
Adolescents,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
David Bowie,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Mission of Burma,
Con Funk Shun,
Nils Olav,
Cecil Taylor,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Nirvana,
Magazine,
Heaven 17,
Inner City,
Morten Harket,
Smog,
Ultra Naté,
Hot Snakes,
Maleditus Sound,
Tom Boy,
June of 44,
The Misunderstood,
Ken Boothe,
The Cure,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Soft Cell,
Roxette,
Technova,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Todd Rundgren,
Lightning Bolt,
The Martian,
The Cowsills,
Throbbing Gristle,
Alton Ellis,
Basic Channel,
June Days,
Boredoms,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Neil Young,
Cybotron,
The Motions,
Lindisfarne,
Johnny Osbourne,
Blake Baxter,
David Axelrod,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Marine Girls,
Hoover,
John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon, John Lydon.
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.