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 Uruguay and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Arthur Verocai to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Underground Resistance. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Faust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arab on Radar,
Public Enemy,
Motorama,
Model 500,
Janne Schatter,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Severed Heads,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Brothers Johnson,
Y Pants,
Audionom,
Depeche Mode,
Crooked Eye,
Television,
Spoonie Gee,
The Residents,
cv313,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mantronix,
The Smiths,
Joyce Sims,
Underground Resistance,
Second Layer,
Reagan Youth,
Aswad,
Camberwell Now,
Roxette,
Heaven 17,
Big Daddy Kane,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Vladislav Delay,
Fatback Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Easy Going,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Slits,
Isaac Hayes,
Accadde A,
The Index,
John Holt,
Dave Gahan,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Fuzztones,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Nation of Ulysses,
Electric Prunes,
Derrick Morgan,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The American Breed,
Bluetip,
Reuben Wilson,
The Knickerbockers,
Althea and Donna,
The Selecter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
JFA,
Crispian St. Peters,
Dead Boys,
Joey Negro,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.