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 China and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
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 guitar 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Germs,
Sex Pistols,
Idris Muhammad,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wire,
Sixth Finger,
The Monks,
The Fire Engines,
Nick Fraelich,
Bill Near,
MC5,
Isaac Hayes,
The Star Department,
Girls At Our Best!,
Andrew Hill,
The Sound,
Index,
Scan 7,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Black Pus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Michelle Simonal,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott Heron,
Tres Demented,
Buzzcocks,
Mad Mike,
Barry Ungar,
Curtis Mayfield,
Basic Channel,
Tim Buckley,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Adolescents,
Con Funk Shun,
Godley & Creme,
Sound Behaviour,
The Cowsills,
Marvin Gaye,
Radiopuhelimet,
Tommy Roe,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric Copeland,
Amazonics,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Little Man,
Procol Harum,
Robert Hood,
Gerry Rafferty,
Blossom Toes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Das Ding,
Dead Boys,
Drive Like Jehu,
Wasted Youth,
The Mummies,
Delta 5,
Ornette Coleman,
Intrusion,
Sugar Minott,
Faust,
The Selecter,
Ossler,
R.M.O.,
Zapp, Zapp, Zapp, Zapp.
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.