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 Nepal and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eden Ahbez to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All Nirvana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Organ,
Surgeon,
Jacques Brel,
Camberwell Now,
Crooked Eye,
Icehouse,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sandy B,
Drexciya,
Guru Guru,
Cymande,
Tom Boy,
Basic Channel,
Hot Snakes,
The Moody Blues,
John Cale,
Radiopuhelimet,
Slave,
Fear,
Tears for Fears,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Barracudas,
Country Teasers,
Morten Harket,
Trumans Water,
Pierre Henry,
The Doobie Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
Agent Orange,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Martian,
Stereo Dub,
Lungfish,
June Days,
the Fania All-Stars,
E-Dancer,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mr. Review,
Tres Demented,
Bill Wells,
Make Up,
Ten City,
Al Stewart,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jerry's Kids,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ituana,
Pere Ubu,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Deakin,
Sister Nancy,
The American Breed,
Frankie Knuckles,
the Bar-Kays,
The Raincoats,
Nirvana,
Au Pairs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The J.B.'s,
A Certain Ratio,
The Remains,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.