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 Cameroon and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Index to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang of Four record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bootsy Collins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Donald Byrd,
The New Christs,
Yellowson,
Gregory Isaacs,
Lou Reed,
The Gun Club,
David McCallum,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Mojo Men,
Unwound,
Camberwell Now,
These Immortal Souls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Electric Prunes,
DJ Sneak,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Beau Brummels,
JFA,
Popol Vuh,
Isaac Hayes,
Tim Buckley,
Peter & Gordon,
Underground Resistance,
The Alarm Clocks,
Eurythmics,
Pantaleimon,
The Knickerbockers,
Intrusion,
Joe Smooth,
Terry Callier,
Bluetip,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nirvana,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jacques Brel,
the Human League,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bush Tetras,
Crash Course in Science,
Shoche,
H. Thieme,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ponytail,
Slick Rick,
The Busters,
Gang Green,
Soft Machine,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Echospace,
Eric Dolphy,
Traffic Nightmare,
Mary Jane Girls,
UT,
Blake Baxter,
Scrapy,
K-Klass,
Eric Copeland,
Lalann,
Soul II Soul,
Talk Talk,
Graham Central Station,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu, Pere Ubu.
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.