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 Ghana and from Houston.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Dead Boys to the electroclash 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 The Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
The Moleskins,
The Music Machine,
Public Enemy,
Grauzone,
Goldenarms,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
T. Rex,
The Fugs,
Sound Behaviour,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Slits,
The Angels of Light,
Lee Hazlewood,
Amazonics,
48th St. Collective,
Shuggie Otis,
Slave,
Wire,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Silicon Teens,
Sex Pistols,
Kevin Saunderson,
Outsiders,
Fear,
Leonard Cohen,
Kool Moe Dee,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Walker Brothers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Glambeats Corp.,
Cluster,
Tears for Fears,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dual Sessions,
Rosa Yemen,
The Selecter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Howard Jones,
Boogie Down Productions,
Brothers Johnson,
Vladislav Delay,
Negative Approach,
Lucky Dragons,
Lebanon Hanover,
Infiniti,
Eli Mardock,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Normal,
Von Mondo,
Accadde A,
the Bar-Kays,
Urselle,
The Techniques,
Pussy Galore,
Barrington Levy,
Jacques Brel,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Grass Roots,
Gang Starr,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.