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 Afghanistan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Misunderstood. All the underground hits.
All Khruangbin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Searchers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lyres,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Residents,
Zero Boys,
Hasil Adkins,
The Techniques,
Alphaville,
Surgeon,
Newcleus,
Brass Construction,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sandy B,
MDC,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Delta 5,
Throbbing Gristle,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Monks,
cv313,
Angry Samoans,
The Leaves,
DJ Sneak,
Boz Scaggs,
Cybotron,
Fluxion,
Colin Newman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Clear Light,
Model 500,
The Barracudas,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Wings,
Eli Mardock,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sight & Sound,
Brothers Johnson,
The Divine Comedy,
Tears for Fears,
Bang On A Can,
D'Angelo,
Juan Atkins,
Desert Stars,
Agent Orange,
Eric B and Rakim,
Boredoms,
Robert Görl,
Maleditus Sound,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Oneida,
Can,
Panda Bear,
Freddie Wadling,
ABC,
Pharoah Sanders,
John Cale,
Jerry Gold Smith,
One Last Wish,
Tom Boy,
Ultra Naté,
Flipper, Flipper, Flipper, Flipper.
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.