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 Guatemala and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Seoul.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Nik Kershaw to the punk 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 Pierre Henry. All the underground hits.
All Swell Maps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Mo-Dettes,
Marc Almond,
Tres Demented,
Minny Pops,
Connie Case,
Joy Division,
Zero Boys,
Half Japanese,
Neu!,
Scrapy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Soft Cell,
Radiohead,
Tomorrow,
Television,
Simply Red,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Marmalade,
Jesper Dahlback,
Slave,
Byron Stingily,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tears for Fears,
These Immortal Souls,
Sandy B,
Scan 7,
The Electric Prunes,
Morten Harket,
Yellowson,
Arcadia,
Subhumans,
Cheater Slicks,
Underground Resistance,
Fluxion,
Bauhaus,
Von Mondo,
The Wake,
The Golliwogs,
Unrelated Segments,
Shoche,
Arthur Verocai,
Steve Hackett,
Flipper,
Joe Smooth,
Sun Ra,
Amon Düül,
Essential Logic,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crooked Eye,
The Fuzztones,
Joyce Sims,
OOIOO,
Buzzcocks,
Erykah Badu,
John Cale,
Hoover,
X-101,
Television Personalities,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Angry Samoans,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.