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 Italy and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Subhumans to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All L. Decosne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nik Kershaw record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lightning Bolt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
The Toasters,
Gichy Dan,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Don Cherry,
The Searchers,
the Slits,
Buzzcocks,
Wally Richardson,
Pere Ubu,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scion,
The Trojans,
The Real Kids,
Blake Baxter,
CMW,
Black Bananas,
The Beau Brummels,
June of 44,
Accadde A,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Max Romeo,
The Misunderstood,
Visage,
Gang of Four,
Au Pairs,
Leonard Cohen,
Lebanon Hanover,
Fatback Band,
The Fire Engines,
Alison Limerick,
Mark Hollis,
David Axelrod,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The J.B.'s,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cabaret Voltaire,
the Sonics,
Crime,
Eddi Front,
K-Klass,
David Bowie,
OOIOO,
Q and Not U,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Terry Callier,
Scan 7,
Unwound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bob Dylan,
Hardrive,
the Germs,
Susan Cadogan,
Skarface,
Television,
L. Decosne,
Chris Corsano,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bootsy Collins,
Severed Heads,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.