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 Seychelles and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar 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 Sister Nancy to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Slick Rick,
Terry Callier,
Hashim,
H. Thieme,
Spandau Ballet,
Mantronix,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Smiths,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Knickerbockers,
Piero Umiliani,
Roxy Music,
MC5,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Jeff Mills,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Gang Green,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Silicon Teens,
Duran Duran,
World's Most,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Martian,
Scrapy,
The Monochrome Set,
ABBA,
Kayak,
The Fuzztones,
Donald Byrd,
Kurtis Blow,
Alison Limerick,
Ohio Players,
Bluetip,
Sister Nancy,
Robert Hood,
The Gladiators,
Erykah Badu,
Sparks,
Bootsy Collins,
David Bowie,
F. McDonald,
Pussy Galore,
Banda Bassotti,
Skriet,
Tears for Fears,
Neu!,
Yazoo,
Hoover,
Isaac Hayes,
The Smoke,
Gregory Isaacs,
Judy Mowatt,
Harry Pussy,
Alton Ellis,
The Associates,
Royal Trux,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.