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 Bahamas and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Star Department to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All Kevin Saunderson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxette record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 organ and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sällskapet,
The Smiths,
Brothers Johnson,
Minny Pops,
the Association,
The Pop Group,
The Divine Comedy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Pulsallama,
Reagan Youth,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nik Kershaw,
The Mummies,
Dead Boys,
The Trojans,
The Tremeloes,
The Fire Engines,
ABBA,
Banda Bassotti,
Young Marble Giants,
Desert Stars,
48th St. Collective,
The Misunderstood,
Los Fastidios,
Soft Cell,
Alison Limerick,
Cybotron,
Cal Tjader,
Boredoms,
Jeru the Damaja,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tom Boy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Hoover,
Quando Quango,
Rosa Yemen,
Letta Mbulu,
Adolescents,
Glenn Branca,
Blake Baxter,
Arcadia,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Slick Rick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Radiohead,
Pagans,
Negative Approach,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Cheater Slicks,
Wolf Eyes,
DJ Sneak,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Soft Machine,
X-101,
Flash Fearless,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Tim Buckley,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Todd Rundgren,
Tubeway Army,
Jawbox,
Ornette Coleman,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.