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 Hungary and from Mexico City.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the rock 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 Zapp. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 808 and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eli Mardock,
Lower 48,
The Saints,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Metal Thangz,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Soft Cell,
Aswad,
The Searchers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Holt,
China Crisis,
Ronnie Foster,
Ken Boothe,
Grauzone,
Visage,
The Offenders,
Soul II Soul,
Cecil Taylor,
X-102,
The Buckinghams,
The J.B.'s,
Saccharine Trust,
John Lydon,
Siglo XX,
Rites of Spring,
Monolake,
The New Christs,
Smog,
Maurizio,
X-Ray Spex,
Magma,
Chris Corsano,
Peter & Gordon,
Minor Threat,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Soft Cell,
KRS-One,
The Toasters,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Cybotron,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Moody Blues,
Gang of Four,
The Monochrome Set,
The Young Rascals,
Los Fastidios,
The Cosmic Jokers,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bootsy Collins,
The Invisible,
Deepchord,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ultra Naté,
Fat Boys,
The Neon Judgement,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Ultravox,
Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers, Aloha Tigers.
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.