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 Israel and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Calgary.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cymande to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Marine Girls. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pere Ubu,
L. Decosne,
Fluxion,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Masters at Work,
Schoolly D,
Lungfish,
the Sonics,
James White and The Blacks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ultra Naté,
Monks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Make Up,
Excepter,
A Certain Ratio,
Youth Brigade,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
the Slits,
Faraquet,
John Foxx,
Fugazi,
These Immortal Souls,
Robert Hood,
Peter and Kerry,
Todd Rundgren,
Icehouse,
The Gun Club,
H. Thieme,
The Smoke,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rekid,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Cowsills,
Sun Ra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Move,
In Retrospect,
Rapeman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Section 25,
Circle Jerks,
Loose Ends,
Buzzcocks,
Absolute Body Control,
The Alarm Clocks,
Warsaw,
Junior Murvin,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Fear,
John Lydon,
10cc,
Theoretical Girls,
Cameo,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
X-Ray Spex,
Piero Umiliani,
June Days,
The Red Krayola,
Supertramp,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.