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 Comoros and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Graham Central Station to the jazz 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Model 500 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Judy Mowatt,
the Germs,
Minutemen,
The Residents,
Grey Daturas,
U.S. Maple,
Man Parrish,
Danielle Patucci,
The Mummies,
Chris & Cosey,
Television Personalities,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Amazonics,
T.S.O.L.,
Camberwell Now,
Funkadelic,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Bobby Sherman,
Fluxion,
Rufus Thomas,
Scion,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sister Nancy,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sam Rivers,
The Red Krayola,
Nation of Ulysses,
Simply Red,
8 Eyed Spy,
Matthew Halsall,
Aloha Tigers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Cheater Slicks,
Sarah Menescal,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Soulsonic Force,
Agitation Free,
Kaleidoscope,
A Certain Ratio,
Maleditus Sound,
Dual Sessions,
Lightning Bolt,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
DJ Style,
Carl Craig,
Can,
Anthony Braxton,
Half Japanese,
Duran Duran,
Tears for Fears,
The Offenders,
B.T. Express,
Steve Hackett,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Angels of Light,
Black Bananas,
The Electric Prunes,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Smoke,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.