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 Uruguay and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Depeche Mode to the rap 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 Black Moon. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mandrill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a guitar 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 an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
The Mojo Men,
Cheater Slicks,
Intrusion,
Jacques Brel,
Lou Christie,
The Pretty Things,
Pierre Henry,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Boredoms,
H. Thieme,
Bootsy Collins,
The Residents,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Minutemen,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Busters,
Bill Wells,
Lungfish,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Reed,
Bauhaus,
The Smiths,
Grauzone,
World's Most,
Hardrive,
Lakeside,
Maurizio,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roxy Music,
Parry Music,
R.M.O.,
Ossler,
The Golliwogs,
Loose Ends,
Danielle Patucci,
Infiniti,
Crooked Eye,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sister Nancy,
Aloha Tigers,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Saccharine Trust,
The Velvet Underground,
T.S.O.L.,
Ronnie Foster,
Joey Negro,
Judy Mowatt,
Mission of Burma,
Tomorrow,
Iggy Pop,
Agitation Free,
Aswad,
Pantytec,
L. Decosne,
Throbbing Gristle,
Schoolly D,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
FM Einheit,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tommy Roe,
Bang On A Can,
Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay, Vladislav Delay.
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.