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 East Timor and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the snare 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 Porter Ricks to the punk 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 T.S.O.L.. All the underground hits.
All Drexciya tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Motions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Interpol,
Swell Maps,
Don Cherry,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Golliwogs,
the Germs,
The Buckinghams,
Sonny Sharrock,
Andrew Hill,
Simply Red,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Warsaw,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Man Eating Sloth,
Freddie Wadling,
Duran Duran,
The Angels of Light,
Joy Division,
Eve St. Jones,
Zapp,
Qualms,
Hoover,
Essential Logic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Smiths,
Camouflage,
The Beau Brummels,
Sister Nancy,
The Doors,
Eric Copeland,
Rites of Spring,
Thee Headcoats,
World's Most,
ABC,
Neu!,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Monochrome Set,
Sex Pistols,
New York Dolls,
The Walker Brothers,
The Sound,
Arcadia,
Agent Orange,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Morten Harket,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lungfish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mark Hollis,
The Star Department,
Blossom Toes,
Visage,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bronski Beat,
Cal Tjader,
Joensuu 1685,
The Modern Lovers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Dual Sessions,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.