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 Jamaica and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Index to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Unwound. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül II tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Jandek,
Ronan,
Wings,
Theoretical Girls,
Tears for Fears,
Alphaville,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Camberwell Now,
Mr. Review,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sound Behaviour,
Soft Machine,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Pantytec,
Chris Corsano,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Radiohead,
Sugar Minott,
Bang On A Can,
A Certain Ratio,
Organ,
Crash Course in Science,
The Toasters,
Trumans Water,
The Fortunes,
Jacques Brel,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Cowsills,
Carl Craig,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Intrusion,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Don Cherry,
Black Moon,
Sex Pistols,
Country Teasers,
Grauzone,
Roxette,
The Busters,
Mission of Burma,
Ronnie Foster,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Magazine,
Eddi Front,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Outsiders,
Warren Ellis,
Jerry's Kids,
Amazonics,
Gabor Szabo,
The Shadows of Knight,
MDC,
In Retrospect,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Chris & Cosey,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Q and Not U,
The Leaves,
Ultravox,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.