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 Equatorial Guinea and from Hong Kong.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 marimba 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 Inner City to the grime 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Buzzcocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Nas,
These Immortal Souls,
Visage,
Gregory Isaacs,
Arab on Radar,
Porter Ricks,
The Leaves,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Swans,
Suicide,
The Fugs,
The Cure,
Flamin' Groovies,
Jacques Brel,
John Holt,
Matthew Bourne,
Lindisfarne,
the Bar-Kays,
Kerri Chandler,
Hasil Adkins,
Chris & Cosey,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
John Foxx,
Henry Cow,
Masters at Work,
Alphaville,
The Monochrome Set,
The Cramps,
Shoche,
Deepchord,
Pole,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sandy B,
The Martian,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Severed Heads,
Oblivians,
Morten Harket,
Lungfish,
John Lydon,
A Certain Ratio,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Cale,
Eddi Front,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Moleskins,
Los Fastidios,
Ponytail,
The Five Americans,
Toni Rubio,
Roxy Music,
The Black Dice,
Schoolly D,
Eden Ahbez,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gil Scott Heron,
Quantec,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.