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 Micronesia and from Mexico City.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 clarinet 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 The Angels of Light to the funk 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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scientists record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
New Order,
Eurythmics,
The Red Krayola,
The Fuzztones,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sight & Sound,
Skriet,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Cramps,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare,
Banda Bassotti,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Byron Stingily,
Rod Modell,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Fania All-Stars,
Unwound,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Wire,
Black Sheep,
Lalann,
Iggy Pop,
JFA,
Ronnie Foster,
Delon & Dalcan,
Mary Jane Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Little Man,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bill Wells,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Vogues,
Al Stewart,
Livin' Joy,
Thee Headcoats,
Flash Fearless,
Con Funk Shun,
Max Romeo,
Janne Schatter,
The Dave Clark Five,
Los Fastidios,
Bush Tetras,
The Busters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lightning Bolt,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bobby Byrd,
Howard Jones,
Maurizio,
Anthony Braxton,
Curtis Mayfield,
Freddie Wadling,
Guru Guru,
Arcadia,
These Immortal Souls,
Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad, Idris Muhammad.
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.