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 New Zealand and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 spring reverb 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 Sound Behaviour to the techno 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Smoke 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Echospace,
John Lydon,
the Normal,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eric Copeland,
the Association,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lungfish,
Albert Ayler,
a-ha,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ituana,
T. Rex,
Ossler,
Sarah Menescal,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Tremeloes,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Neon Judgement,
Kurtis Blow,
Eve St. Jones,
The Blues Magoos,
Kayak,
The Raincoats,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sam Rivers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sixth Finger,
Traffic Nightmare,
Loose Ends,
Jeru the Damaja,
Aswad,
Donald Byrd,
The Barracudas,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Godley & Creme,
Anthony Braxton,
FM Einheit,
Cluster,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Maurizio,
The Electric Prunes,
Television,
The Slackers,
Sex Pistols,
DJ Sneak,
Al Stewart,
Gregory Isaacs,
Youth Brigade,
Grey Daturas,
The Dave Clark Five,
X-Ray Spex,
Young Marble Giants,
Japan,
Rotary Connection,
La Düsseldorf,
Mr. Review,
Pulsallama,
Newcleus,
In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect, In Retrospect.
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.