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 Hungary and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Mr. Review to the funk 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 Pharoah Sanders. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun City Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Make Up,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Thee Headcoats,
Lindisfarne,
Godley & Creme,
James White and The Blacks,
Brass Construction,
the Normal,
H. Thieme,
Girls At Our Best!,
Jacob Miller,
Crispy Ambulance,
Rekid,
Young Marble Giants,
Soft Machine,
Joe Smooth,
Scan 7,
Gichy Dan,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Severed Heads,
The Cramps,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rites of Spring,
In Retrospect,
L. Decosne,
The Dirtbombs,
David McCallum,
Archie Shepp,
Fluxion,
Simply Red,
Malaria!,
The Selecter,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
DJ Style,
Nico,
Moss Icon,
The Toasters,
Wolf Eyes,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Black Dice,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Don Cherry,
K-Klass,
Desert Stars,
Faraquet,
Hashim,
Swell Maps,
Franke,
Jawbox,
Q and Not U,
The Gories,
Chrome,
David Bowie,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Aswad,
Carl Craig,
MDC,
The Durutti Column,
Gong,
The Busters,
Black Flag,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.