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 Vietnam and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Barclay James Harvest to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All This Heat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Accadde A,
Scrapy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scion,
Ultimate Spinach,
the Sonics,
8 Eyed Spy,
New Order,
Drive Like Jehu,
Faust,
Y Pants,
Radiopuhelimet,
Thee Headcoats,
Popol Vuh,
Eden Ahbez,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Smoke,
Stiv Bators,
Pantaleimon,
Chris Corsano,
Henry Cow,
Dennis Brown,
Lower 48,
B.T. Express,
Kurtis Blow,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Zeros,
Quadrant,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Roger Hodgson,
Sam Rivers,
Bob Dylan,
The Neon Judgement,
Wire,
Barbara Tucker,
Desert Stars,
The Dirtbombs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
John Cale,
Neu!,
Kerri Chandler,
Black Bananas,
Black Moon,
Heaven 17,
Black Sheep,
Junior Murvin,
Soft Cell,
The Barracudas,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tim Buckley,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Durutti Column,
Sexual Harrassment,
Barry Ungar,
Make Up,
The Doobie Brothers,
Jacob Miller,
Bluetip,
One Last Wish,
Amon Düül II,
Todd Rundgren,
Bootsy Collins,
John Lydon,
The Martian, The Martian, The Martian, The Martian.
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.