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 Malaysia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 sitar 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 8 Eyed Spy to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Soft Machine. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
Dave Gahan,
The Electric Prunes,
Moby Grape,
Bob Dylan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Loose Ends,
Country Teasers,
The Move,
Moss Icon,
Gang Green,
Hasil Adkins,
Aloha Tigers,
T. Rex,
Peter & Gordon,
Henry Cow,
Joyce Sims,
Fad Gadget,
Darondo,
Sarah Menescal,
Malaria!,
Roxy Music,
Basic Channel,
Neu!,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Index,
Easy Going,
Colin Newman,
F. McDonald,
Marc Almond,
Dorothy Ashby,
Funkadelic,
Q65,
The Gun Club,
Kurtis Blow,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Victims,
Von Mondo,
Man Parrish,
Tom Boy,
Symarip,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Au Pairs,
Bobby Byrd,
Accadde A,
Don Cherry,
Agitation Free,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Little Man,
Gong,
Khruangbin,
Sound Behaviour,
The Moleskins,
Unrelated Segments,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Y Pants,
Sandy B,
Joe Smooth,
Brass Construction,
Glenn Branca,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
PIL,
Technova, Technova, Technova, Technova.
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.