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 Italy and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 clarinet 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 Freddie Wadling to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 F. McDonald. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Neu!,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Suburban Knight,
Gabor Szabo,
Pussy Galore,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tommy Roe,
the Normal,
the Slits,
Tears for Fears,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sex Pistols,
Swans,
UT,
Bluetip,
Bill Wells,
Bad Manners,
Bob Dylan,
The Names,
Reagan Youth,
John Cale,
Moebius,
The Motions,
Unwound,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Yaz,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Donny Hathaway,
Bootsy Collins,
Chrome,
Kurtis Blow,
Pere Ubu,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Das Ding,
Ronnie Foster,
The Standells,
Zapp,
Cluster,
Electric Prunes,
Todd Rundgren,
Blossom Toes,
The Techniques,
Andrew Hill,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Terrestrial Tones,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Glambeats Corp.,
Thompson Twins,
AZ,
R.M.O.,
Byron Stingily,
Television,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Warsaw,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.