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 Guinea and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Brothers Johnson to the rap 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 Buzzcocks. All the underground hits.
All Altered Images tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Leonard Cohen,
Y Pants,
Idris Muhammad,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Moleskins,
F. McDonald,
The Young Rascals,
Interpol,
Japan,
The Cramps,
Underground Resistance,
Marc Almond,
Radio Birdman,
H. Thieme,
Faust,
Fluxion,
Pierre Henry,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Lalo Schifrin,
Sister Nancy,
La Düsseldorf,
Audionom,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scratch Acid,
Chris & Cosey,
The Offenders,
EPMD,
Brick,
Television Personalities,
Severed Heads,
Das Ding,
Carl Craig,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
AZ,
Surgeon,
Little Man,
Joyce Sims,
Robert Görl,
Nirvana,
Lakeside,
Bluetip,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Connie Case,
Bobby Womack,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Goldenarms,
The Trojans,
Terry Callier,
Ronan,
Maleditus Sound,
Andrew Hill,
Pagans,
Symarip,
Mission of Burma,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sex Pistols,
The Sonics,
Hashim,
The Names,
The Saints,
X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex, X-Ray Spex.
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.