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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Edmonton.
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 guitar 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 The Skatalites to the grunge 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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Stiv Bators,
Frankie Knuckles,
The American Breed,
The Flesh Eaters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lee Hazlewood,
These Immortal Souls,
The Standells,
Mark Hollis,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Blues Magoos,
cv313,
Fatback Band,
The Divine Comedy,
Gang of Four,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ice-T,
Lindisfarne,
The Index,
Sex Pistols,
The Moody Blues,
Ken Boothe,
Eddi Front,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Fortunes,
Electric Prunes,
Average White Band,
The Smoke,
Severed Heads,
Masters at Work,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Techniques,
Dead Boys,
Popol Vuh,
Bad Manners,
Skaos,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The United States of America,
Roy Ayers,
Aloha Tigers,
Maleditus Sound,
The Red Krayola,
Throbbing Gristle,
Suicide,
Fat Boys,
Amon Düül II,
The Barracudas,
Arthur Verocai,
Harry Pussy,
L. Decosne,
Quando Quango,
Soft Cell,
A Certain Ratio,
Joy Division,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Joey Negro,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.