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 Marshall Islands and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 oboe 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 Scott Walker to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Kenny Larkin,
Wolf Eyes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
New Age Steppers,
Malaria!,
Andrew Hill,
The Human League,
Yusef Lateef,
Iggy Pop,
Hot Snakes,
Don Cherry,
Blake Baxter,
8 Eyed Spy,
Quando Quango,
the Normal,
Thee Headcoats,
David Axelrod,
Whodini,
Vainqueur,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Max Romeo,
Japan,
Lakeside,
Peter and Kerry,
The Music Machine,
Nirvana,
UT,
Can,
Fat Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yaz,
Joy Division,
Talk Talk,
Unrelated Segments,
Echospace,
Y Pants,
Basic Channel,
Adolescents,
The Techniques,
X-102,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Gun Club,
Excepter,
Tommy Roe,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fortunes,
Dark Day,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Interpol,
The Raincoats,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Nils Olav,
Bauhaus,
The Smiths,
Maurizio,
Arcadia,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
In Retrospect,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.