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 New Zealand and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 X-Ray Spex to the disco 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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
ABC,
The Motions,
John Holt,
The Red Krayola,
Dave Gahan,
Max Romeo,
T.S.O.L.,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Mission of Burma,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Mojo Men,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ice-T,
Eve St. Jones,
Bob Dylan,
Slick Rick,
Motorama,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Misunderstood,
The Human League,
Agitation Free,
Bill Wells,
T. Rex,
a-ha,
Massinfluence,
The Dirtbombs,
Soft Cell,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Fuzztones,
The Knickerbockers,
Gabor Szabo,
June of 44,
Kenny Larkin,
Janne Schatter,
Camouflage,
The Cosmic Jokers,
A Certain Ratio,
The Grass Roots,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sonny Sharrock,
Trumans Water,
London Community Gospel Choir,
New York Dolls,
Stetsasonic,
Michelle Simonal,
The Smoke,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
OOIOO,
Pere Ubu,
Fear,
Audionom,
Eric Copeland,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Offenders,
Sound Behaviour,
the Bar-Kays,
Infiniti,
MC5,
Chris Corsano,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.