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 Mali and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Camouflage 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
Rapeman,
Clear Light,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Associates,
Roxy Music,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lyres,
Ralphi Rosario,
Half Japanese,
Lou Reed,
Jawbox,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ossler,
Ornette Coleman,
The New Christs,
The Sound,
The Monks,
Wasted Youth,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joey Negro,
Reagan Youth,
Angry Samoans,
The Dave Clark Five,
Japan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Con Funk Shun,
Main Source,
Zapp,
Danielle Patucci,
Aaron Thompson,
Kaleidoscope,
U.S. Maple,
Jimmy McGriff,
Quando Quango,
Byron Stingily,
Alton Ellis,
Terrestrial Tones,
AZ,
The Busters,
Max Romeo,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang Green,
The Velvet Underground,
Rites of Spring,
Ludus,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Toni Rubio,
The Human League,
Scan 7,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Offenders,
Heaven 17,
Minor Threat,
ABBA,
The Pop Group,
Wings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Alphaville,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.