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 South Sudan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 chamberlin 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 Ultimate Spinach to the dance 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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Neon Judgement record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Mummies,
X-101,
Public Image Ltd.,
Siglo XX,
Mark Hollis,
Hashim,
Japan,
Spandau Ballet,
Sixth Finger,
Young Marble Giants,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eden Ahbez,
Morten Harket,
Hoover,
48th St. Collective,
Harpers Bizarre,
Throbbing Gristle,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wally Richardson,
the Association,
Gil Scott Heron,
Spoonie Gee,
Panda Bear,
Nils Olav,
Buzzcocks,
The Durutti Column,
Desert Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Radiohead,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Schoolly D,
The Happenings,
The Last Poets,
David Bowie,
The Human League,
Public Enemy,
Jandek,
The Birthday Party,
X-Ray Spex,
The Moleskins,
The Names,
New York Dolls,
Section 25,
Talk Talk,
Duran Duran,
Shuggie Otis,
Lyres,
Jacques Brel,
Graham Central Station,
Country Teasers,
The Fall,
The United States of America,
Skriet,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
FM Einheit,
The Divine Comedy,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Detroit Cobras,
Whodini,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.