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 Ivory Coast and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Winnipeg.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Dead Boys to the dance 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Half Japanese tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pierre Henry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Rosa Yemen,
Alice Coltrane,
The Real Kids,
Grey Daturas,
Sex Pistols,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lyres,
JFA,
DNA,
Stiv Bators,
Jandek,
Slave,
Desert Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sight & Sound,
Severed Heads,
The Trojans,
Supertramp,
The Fugs,
Reuben Wilson,
Ice-T,
Pylon,
Visage,
James Chance & The Contortions,
OOIOO,
Subhumans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Saccharine Trust,
Frankie Knuckles,
John Lydon,
The New Christs,
X-101,
David Axelrod,
Crash Course in Science,
Aswad,
Mark Hollis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Funky Four + One,
Skriet,
The Blues Magoos,
Liliput,
Sparks,
Patti Smith,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barbara Tucker,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nick Fraelich,
Bobby Sherman,
Wally Richardson,
Rites of Spring,
Hasil Adkins,
Bootsy Collins,
Yellowson,
The Skatalites,
a-ha,
The J.B.'s,
MC5,
The Buckinghams,
Monolake,
Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus, Black Pus.
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.