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 Afghanistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 clarinet 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 Quando Quango to the grunge 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 Agitation Free. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ice-T record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kevin Saunderson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Buckinghams,
The Music Machine,
Junior Murvin,
Kayak,
Babytalk,
Ohio Players,
Hasil Adkins,
Boz Scaggs,
The Kinks,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Cowsills,
Intrusion,
Glambeats Corp.,
Joensuu 1685,
Sonny Sharrock,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Masters at Work,
Bobby Womack,
Alice Coltrane,
H. Thieme,
Yazoo,
The Gories,
In Retrospect,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Radiohead,
Kas Product,
Judy Mowatt,
Schoolly D,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Hood,
Lindisfarne,
The Red Krayola,
Kerrie Biddell,
Juan Atkins,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ituana,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
the Human League,
The Moleskins,
Prince Buster,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Barry Ungar,
Joy Division,
Underground Resistance,
Erykah Badu,
Harry Pussy,
Rufus Thomas,
The Mojo Men,
The Index,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Martian,
Fugazi,
Roger Hodgson,
the Bar-Kays,
World's Most,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
X-102,
Traffic Nightmare,
Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras, Bush Tetras.
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.