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 Andorra and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the guitar 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 Beasts of Bourbon to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Scott Walker. All the underground hits.
All Grauzone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pylon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soft Cell,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Walker Brothers,
Outsiders,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bootsy Collins,
Make Up,
Roxy Music,
the Slits,
The Grass Roots,
Stiv Bators,
Angry Samoans,
Sly & The Family Stone,
John Cale,
Bobby Womack,
Circle Jerks,
Lyres,
Mo-Dettes,
Mars,
Tommy Roe,
Chris Corsano,
Joyce Sims,
Brothers Johnson,
John Foxx,
The United States of America,
Electric Prunes,
The Music Machine,
Vladislav Delay,
Rakim,
Blancmange,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scott Walker,
Black Pus,
Kerri Chandler,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ludus,
Niagra,
Suburban Knight,
Joe Smooth,
The Fire Engines,
Jeff Mills,
The Trojans,
Letta Mbulu,
Flash Fearless,
Sun City Girls,
China Crisis,
The Electric Prunes,
Patti Smith,
The Last Poets,
Reagan Youth,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lightning Bolt,
Cecil Taylor,
H. Thieme,
Underground Resistance,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
a-ha,
Quadrant,
Metal Thangz,
Radio Birdman,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Toasters,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.