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 Brunei and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 New Order to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Brass Construction. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
DJ Sneak,
Sonic Youth,
Deadbeat,
Stockholm Monsters,
Funky Four + One,
Fugazi,
Henry Cow,
Kerrie Biddell,
Neu!,
Patti Smith,
Echospace,
Ice-T,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Matthew Halsall,
Laurel Aitken,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sällskapet,
Moss Icon,
Eric Copeland,
Bang On A Can,
Spandau Ballet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Motions,
Absolute Body Control,
Byron Stingily,
Loose Ends,
Pylon,
Hot Snakes,
Stiv Bators,
the Bar-Kays,
Steve Hackett,
OOIOO,
Suburban Knight,
Tres Demented,
The Techniques,
Desert Stars,
Black Sheep,
Drexciya,
Ituana,
These Immortal Souls,
Godley & Creme,
Eden Ahbez,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Fat Boys,
ABC,
Graham Central Station,
Throbbing Gristle,
Negative Approach,
Slick Rick,
John Holt,
Moby Grape,
Ken Boothe,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Grey Daturas,
The Pop Group,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Wally Richardson,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Barracudas,
Terrestrial Tones,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.