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 Ivory Coast and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin 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 Zapp to the disco 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 Bobby Womack. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Dead Boys,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Camberwell Now,
Heaven 17,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Television Personalities,
Interpol,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Black Dice,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eve St. Jones,
Byron Stingily,
June of 44,
John Foxx,
Arthur Verocai,
Stetsasonic,
John Cale,
The Five Americans,
The Smoke,
Scratch Acid,
Black Pus,
The Moleskins,
The Kinks,
Leonard Cohen,
cv313,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Depeche Mode,
Aural Exciters,
Neu!,
Popol Vuh,
Wally Richardson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Sun Ra,
Zero Boys,
Bobby Byrd,
L. Decosne,
Crime,
ABBA,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pole,
Pierre Henry,
These Immortal Souls,
Talk Talk,
the Sonics,
Brothers Johnson,
Junior Murvin,
Bauhaus,
48th St. Collective,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
In Retrospect,
Fluxion,
Desert Stars,
Fat Boys,
Severed Heads,
Bang On A Can,
Barbara Tucker,
Roy Ayers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.