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 Liechtenstein and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 snare 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 Warren Ellis to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
The Offenders,
Quando Quango,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Soft Cell,
Gang of Four,
The Fall,
World's Most,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Tom Boy,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Alarm Clocks,
Alton Ellis,
Los Fastidios,
Jesper Dahlback,
Wally Richardson,
The Human League,
Terry Callier,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Soul II Soul,
Lakeside,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
T. Rex,
The Angels of Light,
Steve Hackett,
Ornette Coleman,
Sly & The Family Stone,
David Bowie,
Nation of Ulysses,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Man Parrish,
Laurel Aitken,
Masters at Work,
Eric Copeland,
Groovy Waters,
Roger Hodgson,
Cybotron,
the Slits,
Barbara Tucker,
Girls At Our Best!,
Pierre Henry,
Newcleus,
Nils Olav,
Neu!,
The Blackbyrds,
Peter and Kerry,
Minor Threat,
Accadde A,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Darondo,
Animal Collective,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
X-Ray Spex,
The Red Krayola,
Can,
Charles Mingus,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.