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 France and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the 808 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiohead 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Sun City Girls,
Barry Ungar,
Clear Light,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Warsaw,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bush Tetras,
The Flesh Eaters,
Nik Kershaw,
Liliput,
Steve Hackett,
Bauhaus,
Prince Buster,
Angry Samoans,
The Doors,
Henry Cow,
Derrick May,
Skriet,
The Mojo Men,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Lower 48,
Hasil Adkins,
the Normal,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tim Buckley,
The Raincoats,
Adolescents,
Fatback Band,
Fugazi,
Symarip,
Monolake,
Brass Construction,
James Chance & The Contortions,
DJ Sneak,
Barbara Tucker,
R.M.O.,
Agent Orange,
John Lydon,
The Shadows of Knight,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nation of Ulysses,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kayak,
The Misunderstood,
Reagan Youth,
The Sonics,
The Dead C,
Juan Atkins,
The American Breed,
Big Daddy Kane,
Oneida,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Funkadelic,
Aswad,
John Cale,
Shoche,
Infiniti,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.