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 Papua New Guinea and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Beau Brummels to the grime 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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All Los Fastidios tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anakelly record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Eden Ahbez,
the Germs,
The Techniques,
Barry Ungar,
Hardrive,
T.S.O.L.,
Lakeside,
John Lydon,
Gang of Four,
Marshall Jefferson,
Brand Nubian,
The Dave Clark Five,
Mars,
John Cale,
Livin' Joy,
UT,
The Music Machine,
Zapp,
Ludus,
Monks,
Glenn Branca,
Harry Pussy,
Flipper,
Bobby Byrd,
The Last Poets,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Connie Case,
The Young Rascals,
Essential Logic,
Anthony Braxton,
EPMD,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wolf Eyes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Reagan Youth,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Knickerbockers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Scratch Acid,
Fatback Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Depeche Mode,
Rod Modell,
Soul II Soul,
Pulsallama,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Intrusion,
Make Up,
Blake Baxter,
Boredoms,
Cameo,
Tubeway Army,
Swans,
Morten Harket,
Hoover,
Mandrill,
The Angels of Light,
Flamin' Groovies,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.