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 Papua New Guinea and from Lagos.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Edmonton.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the organ 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 Suicide to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 John Foxx. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wasted Youth,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Slits,
Prince Buster,
The Litter,
Joyce Sims,
Au Pairs,
Tubeway Army,
Crime,
Warren Ellis,
Yellowson,
R.M.O.,
PIL,
Organ,
Avey Tare,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scrapy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Zapp,
Agent Orange,
the Germs,
Jeff Lynne,
Alice Coltrane,
This Heat,
the Human League,
Scan 7,
Franke,
Gang of Four,
the Association,
Sight & Sound,
Lungfish,
Rufus Thomas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sound Behaviour,
Lyres,
Chrome,
Minor Threat,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nirvana,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sun Ra,
Man Parrish,
Black Sheep,
The Misunderstood,
Roger Hodgson,
Andrew Hill,
The Modern Lovers,
Nas,
Lindisfarne,
Barbara Tucker,
Harmonia,
Gerry Rafferty,
Toni Rubio,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Wake,
Public Enemy,
Dawn Penn,
Can,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.