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 Albania and from Halifax.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Massinfluence to the electroclash 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 Bootsy Collins. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Liliput,
Susan Cadogan,
Harmonia,
Bob Dylan,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Deakin,
Theoretical Girls,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mr. Review,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Piero Umiliani,
Das Ding,
Lungfish,
X-101,
Davy DMX,
Icehouse,
Yusef Lateef,
Rufus Thomas,
Kayak,
The Dead C,
Minny Pops,
Magazine,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Grauzone,
Harry Pussy,
Suburban Knight,
The Martian,
Ronnie Foster,
Ralphi Rosario,
Technova,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Evens,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Albert Ayler,
Depeche Mode,
The Real Kids,
Kevin Saunderson,
Erasure,
DNA,
Intrusion,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Buzzcocks,
Pussy Galore,
Ossler,
Max Romeo,
L. Decosne,
Pierre Henry,
Funky Four + One,
Leonard Cohen,
Angry Samoans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Aaron Thompson,
Fat Boys,
The Smoke,
Sparks, Sparks, Sparks, Sparks.
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.