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 Guyana and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Portland.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 40 Watt.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Style record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Man Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Move,
Todd Terry,
Harpers Bizarre,
Howard Jones,
Banda Bassotti,
The Human League,
Model 500,
The Gladiators,
Johnny Clarke,
The J.B.'s,
Faust,
Bobby Womack,
Parry Music,
Gang Green,
Brass Construction,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Depeche Mode,
Patti Smith,
The Index,
Lou Christie,
The Shadows of Knight,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Crooked Eye,
R.M.O.,
Scrapy,
Stereo Dub,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Mantronix,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Alton Ellis,
Davy DMX,
Nils Olav,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Cheater Slicks,
Warsaw,
F. McDonald,
Jandek,
the Soft Cell,
MC5,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Eric Dolphy,
The Moody Blues,
OOIOO,
kango's stein massive,
X-102,
The Last Poets,
Talk Talk,
Mr. Review,
Youth Brigade,
Scan 7,
The Detroit Cobras,
the Normal,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Bar-Kays,
Grauzone,
Andrew Hill,
Mark Hollis,
The Tremeloes,
Pet Shop Boys,
X-101,
Adolescents,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.