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 Libya and from Calgary.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ituana 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Bizarre Inc. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Seeds record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Drexciya 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?
Althea and Donna,
Gichy Dan,
John Lydon,
These Immortal Souls,
Rakim,
Massinfluence,
Duran Duran,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Shadows of Knight,
Outsiders,
Michelle Simonal,
The Fire Engines,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Young Rascals,
Johnny Clarke,
Mo-Dettes,
Icehouse,
Ten City,
Reagan Youth,
Marc Almond,
The Last Poets,
The Doors,
Bronski Beat,
The Angels of Light,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Iggy Pop,
Jimmy McGriff,
Tropical Tobacco,
Subhumans,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bang On A Can,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
John Holt,
Henry Cow,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Hashim,
The Standells,
Bill Wells,
The Saints,
Electric Light Orchestra,
DJ Sneak,
Lalann,
John Cale,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gang Green,
The Gun Club,
The Dirtbombs,
Crash Course in Science,
Stetsasonic,
The Real Kids,
Hasil Adkins,
K-Klass,
Bill Near,
Arcadia,
The Misunderstood,
MC5,
Scan 7,
Leonard Cohen,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column, The Durutti Column.
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.