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 Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Make Up to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nik Kershaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Althea and Donna,
Gang of Four,
Johnny Clarke,
New Age Steppers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Monolake,
The Associates,
Aloha Tigers,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Camouflage,
Clear Light,
Subhumans,
Unwound,
La Düsseldorf,
Gong,
Monks,
Basic Channel,
Sonic Youth,
Ronnie Foster,
Bobby Sherman,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Gastr Del Sol,
Black Flag,
Glambeats Corp.,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Radio Birdman,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Q65,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Simply Red,
The Zeros,
Sound Behaviour,
Cameo,
B.T. Express,
Pulsallama,
Roxy Music,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Gladiators,
Cybotron,
Moby Grape,
Eve St. Jones,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Shuggie Otis,
Kurtis Blow,
Pole,
Jawbox,
The Moleskins,
Procol Harum,
Rites of Spring,
Godley & Creme,
Minnie Riperton,
Newcleus,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Litter,
Khruangbin,
Sandy B,
Malaria!,
Ash Ra Tempel,
DNA,
Sister Nancy,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.