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 Singapore and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the marimba 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 Stiv Bators to the electroclash 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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Half Japanese,
Pussy Galore,
The Mighty Diamonds,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
DJ Sneak,
Marine Girls,
Harpers Bizarre,
The J.B.'s,
The Gun Club,
Gabor Szabo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Don Cherry,
Juan Atkins,
48th St. Collective,
Chris & Cosey,
Godley & Creme,
Kayak,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Guru Guru,
The Durutti Column,
Byron Stingily,
The Selecter,
Spoonie Gee,
Babytalk,
ABC,
Scan 7,
Jawbox,
A Certain Ratio,
June of 44,
Max Romeo,
The Associates,
Yellowson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wire,
The Residents,
Joey Negro,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Cheater Slicks,
Scientists,
Archie Shepp,
H. Thieme,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Reuben Wilson,
The Fugs,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ronan,
The Real Kids,
John Coltrane,
Adolescents,
T.S.O.L.,
The Dead C,
8 Eyed Spy,
Scott Walker,
Tears for Fears,
Pylon,
Sparks,
World's Most,
Stockholm Monsters,
X-101,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.