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 Jamaica and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the jazz 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 Pylon. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
The Neon Judgement,
Fatback Band,
Mandrill,
Porter Ricks,
Susan Cadogan,
Eurythmics,
Bang On A Can,
Agent Orange,
Au Pairs,
Ken Boothe,
Funky Four + One,
Hot Snakes,
John Foxx,
The Sound,
Little Man,
Icehouse,
Avey Tare,
Peter and Kerry,
Iggy Pop,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jeff Lynne,
Crash Course in Science,
Chris & Cosey,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Lydon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Robert Görl,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Livin' Joy,
Faraquet,
The Smoke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
L. Decosne,
Talk Talk,
Chris Corsano,
Electric Prunes,
H. Thieme,
The Cramps,
Sun City Girls,
Interpol,
Barrington Levy,
Television,
Jerry's Kids,
Junior Murvin,
10cc,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Index,
The Last Poets,
Judy Mowatt,
Organ,
Byron Stingily,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Doors,
The Invisible,
Ituana,
Kool Moe Dee,
Theoretical Girls,
Country Teasers,
Youth Brigade,
One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish, One Last Wish.
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.