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 Switzerland and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 808 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 Terrestrial Tones to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Livin' Joy. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultimate Spinach record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
Monks,
Marine Girls,
Spandau Ballet,
The Electric Prunes,
Pole,
Grandmaster Flash,
MDC,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cymande,
Sugar Minott,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Oblivians,
CMW,
Jerry's Kids,
Kayak,
Unrelated Segments,
Nik Kershaw,
Quadrant,
Severed Heads,
The Associates,
Livin' Joy,
The Smiths,
The Martian,
ABBA,
Swans,
The Kinks,
The Music Machine,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Slits,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pussy Galore,
The Gladiators,
Section 25,
Althea and Donna,
Arab on Radar,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Stetsasonic,
Theoretical Girls,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
the Sonics,
Vladislav Delay,
John Holt,
Angry Samoans,
Barrington Levy,
Skriet,
Lebanon Hanover,
Prince Buster,
Peter and Kerry,
DNA,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Country Teasers,
The Dead C,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Terry Callier,
Rotary Connection,
The Searchers,
The Pretty Things,
Unwound,
Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci, Danielle Patucci.
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.