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 Denmark and from Bremen.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 and Jamie xx to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dave Gahan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Bad Manners,
Dave Gahan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Techniques,
Henry Cow,
Sällskapet,
Juan Atkins,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bauhaus,
Angry Samoans,
The Fire Engines,
The Martian,
Massinfluence,
Michelle Simonal,
Con Funk Shun,
The Red Krayola,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eric Dolphy,
Skriet,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Maurizio,
Harry Pussy,
The Raincoats,
Cecil Taylor,
The Sound,
The Skatalites,
The Seeds,
Fatback Band,
Livin' Joy,
Ossler,
Talk Talk,
Au Pairs,
The Alarm Clocks,
The United States of America,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
This Heat,
Procol Harum,
Popol Vuh,
Donny Hathaway,
Franke,
Dark Day,
Scientists,
Wire,
Make Up,
K-Klass,
The Moleskins,
Icehouse,
The Birthday Party,
The Neon Judgement,
Underground Resistance,
Fluxion,
Theoretical Girls,
Pantytec,
the Association,
Albert Ayler,
In Retrospect,
Ken Boothe,
Mission of Burma,
Altered Images,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin, Junior Murvin.
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.