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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cameo to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Echospace 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Monks,
Avey Tare,
Royal Trux,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Circle Jerks,
The Durutti Column,
Young Marble Giants,
Don Cherry,
The Victims,
The Residents,
Soft Machine,
June of 44,
Jesper Dahlback,
Soul II Soul,
Shoche,
Minor Threat,
John Lydon,
Gang of Four,
Roxette,
Thee Headcoats,
Mo-Dettes,
John Holt,
Grauzone,
Derrick Morgan,
Pere Ubu,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Symarip,
Hashim,
Cheater Slicks,
Khruangbin,
Girls At Our Best!,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ken Boothe,
The American Breed,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Los Fastidios,
The Count Five,
Faust,
Black Flag,
Harry Pussy,
Amon Düül II,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Alphaville,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Procol Harum,
Zapp,
The Dave Clark Five,
Crime,
The Beau Brummels,
Sixth Finger,
Joensuu 1685,
Delta 5,
Brand Nubian,
Mantronix,
Skriet,
CMW,
Chris & Cosey,
The Index,
Al Stewart,
Aloha Tigers,
The Electric Prunes,
The Golliwogs,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.