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 Haiti and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Fatback Band to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All The Walker Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord 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 Monochrome Set,
The Names,
The Flesh Eaters,
Reuben Wilson,
Sandy B,
Pere Ubu,
Sällskapet,
Lalann,
The Busters,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Colin Newman,
Surgeon,
Blossom Toes,
Iggy Pop,
The Blues Magoos,
Shoche,
Lou Reed,
Agent Orange,
AZ,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mandrill,
The Sound,
Monolake,
The Buckinghams,
These Immortal Souls,
John Coltrane,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Circle Jerks,
Andrew Hill,
Gong,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Henry Cow,
Laurel Aitken,
The Associates,
Roy Ayers,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cybotron,
La Düsseldorf,
Sound Behaviour,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Faust,
Ultravox,
Cymande,
the Bar-Kays,
KRS-One,
Lee Hazlewood,
Lower 48,
The Cure,
Pussy Galore,
The Fall,
Gang Starr,
Ludus,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Deadbeat,
Swans,
Unrelated Segments,
Todd Rundgren,
The Techniques,
The Birthday Party,
Gang Gang Dance,
Lyres,
Second Layer,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.