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 Korea North and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Derrick May to the dance 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Underground Resistance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Das Ding record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Liliput,
The Techniques,
Urselle,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Minor Threat,
Babytalk,
The Remains,
The Slits,
Nick Fraelich,
Loose Ends,
The Smoke,
Mission of Burma,
MDC,
Letta Mbulu,
The Move,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Deepchord,
Minny Pops,
The Mojo Men,
Morten Harket,
The Star Department,
Eve St. Jones,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Toasters,
The Durutti Column,
The Walker Brothers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eric Copeland,
Roxy Music,
Organ,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Hot Snakes,
Radio Birdman,
Joe Finger,
Bobby Byrd,
E-Dancer,
Pagans,
Gang Gang Dance,
Quantec,
Joe Smooth,
Amon Düül,
Flash Fearless,
Terrestrial Tones,
New Age Steppers,
Roy Ayers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Aural Exciters,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Sheep,
Barbara Tucker,
Delta 5,
K-Klass,
Gichy Dan,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.