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 Libya and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Negative Approach to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rites of Spring record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bronski Beat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Howard Jones,
The United States of America,
Monks,
The Gladiators,
Slick Rick,
Grey Daturas,
Television,
The Kinks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Soft Cell,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Roxette,
Panda Bear,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The New Christs,
Lalann,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bauhaus,
Skriet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The J.B.'s,
Faust,
Japan,
Accadde A,
Stiv Bators,
U.S. Maple,
Freddie Wadling,
Todd Terry,
The Flesh Eaters,
Magma,
The Divine Comedy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
In Retrospect,
Silicon Teens,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yellowson,
Roger Hodgson,
Hashim,
The Techniques,
Sam Rivers,
The Litter,
The Alarm Clocks,
Matthew Halsall,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Deepchord,
Jeff Lynne,
the Sonics,
Supertramp,
The Smiths,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
H. Thieme,
Dorothy Ashby,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Walker Brothers,
Livin' Joy,
Aloha Tigers,
Jimmy McGriff,
Kerri Chandler,
Faraquet,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.