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 Bhutan and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Tehran.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Boredoms to the crunk 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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Blancmange,
Aswad,
Marcia Griffiths,
OOIOO,
Mad Mike,
World's Most,
Sight & Sound,
The Five Americans,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Standells,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Doobie Brothers,
Grey Daturas,
Lightning Bolt,
Lalann,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Man Parrish,
Donald Byrd,
Negative Approach,
L. Decosne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Monks,
Electric Prunes,
Drexciya,
Amon Düül,
Desert Stars,
Sparks,
Mr. Review,
China Crisis,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
The Modern Lovers,
Liliput,
Alison Limerick,
Popol Vuh,
Sarah Menescal,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Blossom Toes,
David Axelrod,
K-Klass,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ultra Naté,
Anakelly,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Vainqueur,
Pierre Henry,
Joy Division,
Thee Headcoats,
Index,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Janne Schatter,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Moss Icon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lou Reed,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Jesper Dahlback,
X-Ray Spex,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.