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 Ivory Coast and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the güiro 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 Pantytec to the rock 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 Eddi Front. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Tears for Fears,
Marvin Gaye,
Bad Manners,
Yaz,
Anakelly,
Pussy Galore,
Joey Negro,
Smog,
The Alarm Clocks,
Clear Light,
Piero Umiliani,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Red Krayola,
Joyce Sims,
The Cowsills,
Guru Guru,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
ABBA,
Ten City,
Ornette Coleman,
Don Cherry,
The Blues Magoos,
Sparks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Slits,
Alison Limerick,
The Leaves,
The Remains,
Johnny Clarke,
Slick Rick,
Vladislav Delay,
Pere Ubu,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David Axelrod,
The Sound,
Blancmange,
Cluster,
Letta Mbulu,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Japan,
T. Rex,
Country Teasers,
Derrick Morgan,
Bush Tetras,
Oblivians,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Happenings,
Roxette,
Newcleus,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ossler,
Pylon,
Harmonia,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Modern Lovers,
Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail, Ponytail.
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.