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 Saudi Arabia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 snare 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 Darondo to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Fad Gadget,
June of 44,
Bill Wells,
Andrew Hill,
Soulsonic Force,
Gang Green,
Aloha Tigers,
EPMD,
R.M.O.,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Eden Ahbez,
Ice-T,
Mandrill,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ludus,
Nirvana,
Robert Görl,
Popol Vuh,
Gong,
Fluxion,
the Germs,
Bauhaus,
Ronan,
Crime,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Quantec,
Smog,
Jeru the Damaja,
James White and The Blacks,
the Sonics,
Eric B and Rakim,
Black Flag,
Glenn Branca,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Youth Brigade,
Lower 48,
Michelle Simonal,
Bobby Byrd,
D'Angelo,
Lakeside,
The Electric Prunes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Graham Central Station,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Harpers Bizarre,
Television Personalities,
The Standells,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Slave,
Leonard Cohen,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Slackers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Holt,
Kenny Larkin,
UT,
Reagan Youth,
Tubeway Army,
One Last Wish,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.