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 Dominican Republic and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the snare 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 The Selecter to the disco 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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crispy Ambulance record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Raincoats,
Lower 48,
Scion,
MC5,
Sam Rivers,
Television Personalities,
Morten Harket,
Stiv Bators,
Swans,
Slave,
The Gun Club,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Don Cherry,
Desert Stars,
Henry Cow,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Subhumans,
The Music Machine,
cv313,
Supertramp,
The Move,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Public Enemy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Robert Wyatt,
Goldenarms,
Harry Pussy,
The Young Rascals,
Nirvana,
Interpol,
Eric Dolphy,
Grey Daturas,
The Index,
Half Japanese,
The Saints,
Blancmange,
The Busters,
Zero Boys,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pierre Henry,
Nik Kershaw,
Brothers Johnson,
Ronnie Foster,
Buzzcocks,
The Sonics,
Suburban Knight,
Absolute Body Control,
The J.B.'s,
Harpers Bizarre,
Chris Corsano,
Mandrill,
Sugar Minott,
The Red Krayola,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.