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 New Zealand and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mo-Dettes to the funk 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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Moss Icon,
Terry Callier,
Popol Vuh,
Cymande,
LL Cool J,
Michelle Simonal,
Interpol,
Peter and Kerry,
The Fall,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Vladislav Delay,
X-Ray Spex,
Slave,
JFA,
Prince Buster,
Stiv Bators,
ABBA,
The Last Poets,
DJ Sneak,
James White and The Blacks,
T. Rex,
Electric Prunes,
Grandmaster Flash,
R.M.O.,
David McCallum,
The Golliwogs,
The Slackers,
Mo-Dettes,
Make Up,
The Pop Group,
E-Dancer,
Bluetip,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Victims,
Joey Negro,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Scan 7,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
John Coltrane,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Terrestrial Tones,
Funky Four + One,
Clear Light,
Graham Central Station,
The Techniques,
Gang of Four,
Boz Scaggs,
Matthew Bourne,
In Retrospect,
Fatback Band,
Qualms,
Hot Snakes,
Arthur Verocai,
The Smiths,
Warren Ellis,
Barry Ungar,
Deepchord,
Fifty Foot Hose,
D'Angelo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.