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 Turkey and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Eli Mardock to the grime 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Al Stewart tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fugs,
Ultravox,
Half Japanese,
Cecil Taylor,
Johnny Clarke,
Black Flag,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jawbox,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Girls At Our Best!,
Porter Ricks,
Man Parrish,
The Move,
the Sonics,
EPMD,
Kerrie Biddell,
Livin' Joy,
The J.B.'s,
Soft Machine,
Aural Exciters,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Last Poets,
Amon Düül II,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
48th St. Collective,
The Dead C,
Cameo,
Johnny Osbourne,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Gories,
Chrome,
John Foxx,
Arcadia,
Siglo XX,
Grey Daturas,
Nirvana,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Blues Magoos,
Intrusion,
Wings,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Youth Brigade,
Brand Nubian,
Smog,
Ronan,
K-Klass,
The Fuzztones,
Black Bananas,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Little Man,
Traffic Nightmare,
Throbbing Gristle,
Grauzone,
Glenn Branca,
The Cure,
Matthew Bourne,
Urselle,
Main Source,
The Doobie Brothers,
Second Layer,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.