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 Serbia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Taipei.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Blackbyrds to the techno 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Depeche Mode,
LL Cool J,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Arthur Verocai,
Carl Craig,
Ludus,
Avey Tare,
Jacques Brel,
China Crisis,
Sam Rivers,
Aswad,
Laurel Aitken,
Joyce Sims,
Delon & Dalcan,
Intrusion,
The Mummies,
Rufus Thomas,
The Moody Blues,
The Martian,
Cecil Taylor,
Arab on Radar,
La Düsseldorf,
Lucky Dragons,
These Immortal Souls,
Ohio Players,
Iggy Pop,
The Fall,
John Cale,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sixth Finger,
Country Teasers,
Althea and Donna,
The Evens,
The Grass Roots,
EPMD,
Quantec,
Dawn Penn,
Bizarre Inc.,
Electric Prunes,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Archie Shepp,
Michelle Simonal,
Rakim,
Faraquet,
The Cure,
Rosa Yemen,
Lakeside,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Vogues,
Sex Pistols,
Judy Mowatt,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Leaves,
Monolake,
Cybotron,
Matthew Bourne,
Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback, Jesper Dahlback.
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.