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 Singapore and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Lindisfarne to the punk 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 Joensuu 1685. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s 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 Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
Eric Dolphy,
Metal Thangz,
Brand Nubian,
The Young Rascals,
Magazine,
Boredoms,
Eve St. Jones,
Oblivians,
The Blues Magoos,
kango's stein massive,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Deepchord,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Darondo,
Wolf Eyes,
Alice Coltrane,
Hoover,
Mary Jane Girls,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tim Buckley,
Talk Talk,
Barry Ungar,
Underground Resistance,
Gang Starr,
Schoolly D,
The Victims,
Steve Hackett,
ABBA,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Judy Mowatt,
The Misunderstood,
Saccharine Trust,
the Soft Cell,
Pussy Galore,
Gong,
Tears for Fears,
The Beau Brummels,
Basic Channel,
Ornette Coleman,
Moby Grape,
Cymande,
Barbara Tucker,
Roger Hodgson,
Trumans Water,
Mo-Dettes,
Jandek,
The Zeros,
Joyce Sims,
Depeche Mode,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sällskapet,
Scratch Acid,
Gichy Dan,
The Seeds,
Bronski Beat,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fat Boys,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Terrestrial Tones,
Duran Duran,
Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken, Laurel Aitken.
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.