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 Samoa and from Bologna.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare 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 Bizarre Inc. to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Chocolate Watch Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boredoms,
Dead Boys,
Idris Muhammad,
Bobby Womack,
DJ Sneak,
The Black Dice,
Faust,
Shoche,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Silicon Teens,
Little Man,
Liliput,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Crispian St. Peters,
Matthew Bourne,
Second Layer,
Lyres,
Ken Boothe,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Germs,
Johnny Osbourne,
Matthew Halsall,
Hashim,
Fluxion,
Pere Ubu,
Lou Reed,
Letta Mbulu,
the Fania All-Stars,
The American Breed,
Tom Boy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Girls At Our Best!,
Wasted Youth,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Cramps,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eddi Front,
Talk Talk,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Organ,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Golliwogs,
Blossom Toes,
Peter & Gordon,
Barbara Tucker,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Easy Going,
KRS-One,
Freddie Wadling,
Dual Sessions,
The Trojans,
Colin Newman,
Circle Jerks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lebanon Hanover,
Boz Scaggs,
Soulsonic Force,
Cymande,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.