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 Germany and from Seoul.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Lagos.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 John Holt to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Sun City Girls. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doors,
Lou Christie,
Quadrant,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Scientists,
Scratch Acid,
Lalann,
Johnny Clarke,
The Dirtbombs,
Minutemen,
Amon Düül II,
Radio Birdman,
Kayak,
Fear,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ronnie Foster,
Interpol,
James White and The Blacks,
Amazonics,
The Pretty Things,
Scan 7,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Howard Jones,
Bauhaus,
the Association,
The Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Clear Light,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
New York Dolls,
The Real Kids,
Ludus,
Cymande,
Lindisfarne,
Gregory Isaacs,
A Certain Ratio,
Los Fastidios,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Electric Prunes,
Harry Pussy,
Steve Hackett,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Grauzone,
Buzzcocks,
The Zeros,
Agitation Free,
The American Breed,
The Toasters,
The Birthday Party,
8 Eyed Spy,
Electric Prunes,
The Music Machine,
Aaron Thompson,
The Last Poets,
Spandau Ballet,
Juan Atkins,
The Five Americans,
The Modern Lovers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Slave,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.