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 Tunisia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 oboe 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the crunk 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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Thompson Twins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Severed Heads,
The Raincoats,
The Names,
Jawbox,
Ornette Coleman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ossler,
World's Most,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wolf Eyes,
Maurizio,
Q65,
Boredoms,
the Bar-Kays,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barrington Levy,
Q and Not U,
The Cowsills,
10cc,
Pole,
Moby Grape,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ohio Players,
Fluxion,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gastr Del Sol,
Little Man,
T. Rex,
La Düsseldorf,
Jesper Dahlback,
Quantec,
Altered Images,
The Wake,
Piero Umiliani,
Panda Bear,
Barry Ungar,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Vladislav Delay,
Cal Tjader,
Ituana,
Gang of Four,
Charles Mingus,
Joey Negro,
Bootsy Collins,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Juan Atkins,
The Invisible,
Country Teasers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Rosa Yemen,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Saints,
F. McDonald,
Robert Wyatt,
Nik Kershaw,
Boz Scaggs,
Eli Mardock,
Alice Coltrane,
Pantytec,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.