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 Uganda and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Paris.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Interpol to the rap 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bizarre Inc. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Inner City,
David McCallum,
The Names,
ABBA,
The Real Kids,
Angry Samoans,
Roger Hodgson,
Maurizio,
Television Personalities,
Oblivians,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Radiopuhelimet,
Urselle,
Suicide,
Depeche Mode,
Bootsy Collins,
Marc Almond,
Eddi Front,
Bill Wells,
Tom Boy,
Pere Ubu,
Con Funk Shun,
Jacques Brel,
Goldenarms,
PIL,
Skriet,
Minny Pops,
Donny Hathaway,
Man Parrish,
Lungfish,
Chrome,
Tim Buckley,
The New Christs,
Boogie Down Productions,
F. McDonald,
Accadde A,
The Five Americans,
The Move,
Kool Moe Dee,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Sparks,
Malaria!,
Eurythmics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Brand Nubian,
Don Cherry,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Scratch Acid,
H. Thieme,
Thompson Twins,
Pulsallama,
Aloha Tigers,
Brothers Johnson,
the Soft Cell,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Youth Brigade,
Country Teasers,
Lower 48,
Absolute Body Control,
Hashim,
Lyres,
Joensuu 1685,
Lebanon Hanover,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.