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 Taiwan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 oboe 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 F. McDonald to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang on a Can All-Stars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 an oboe and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harmonia,
Half Japanese,
Surgeon,
Ultravox,
Sandy B,
The Victims,
The Stooges,
Chris & Cosey,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Dual Sessions,
Slave,
Wally Richardson,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Cure,
Johnny Osbourne,
Pussy Galore,
Banda Bassotti,
Supertramp,
The Standells,
Don Cherry,
Visage,
Pylon,
Absolute Body Control,
Anakelly,
Derrick May,
The Selecter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mandrill,
The Gories,
Metal Thangz,
Mars,
Spandau Ballet,
Fluxion,
The Techniques,
Roxy Music,
Terry Callier,
The Happenings,
Lou Reed,
Scott Walker,
K-Klass,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kerri Chandler,
The J.B.'s,
Godley & Creme,
Roxette,
La Düsseldorf,
The Slits,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gong,
Barrington Levy,
Das Ding,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Fuzztones,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
June of 44,
Index,
Pet Shop Boys,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.