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 Belarus and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 T.S.O.L. to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
The Gun Club,
Newcleus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Erasure,
The Martian,
Aswad,
the Germs,
Audionom,
Hardrive,
Thee Headcoats,
Sight & Sound,
The Alarm Clocks,
Robert Görl,
Albert Ayler,
The Associates,
Delon & Dalcan,
Wings,
Shuggie Otis,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gregory Isaacs,
Michelle Simonal,
Nas,
Pantytec,
Soft Machine,
R.M.O.,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pulsallama,
Radio Birdman,
Siglo XX,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Roger Hodgson,
Nico,
Minny Pops,
Rakim,
Surgeon,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Joy Division,
Leonard Cohen,
Lucky Dragons,
Colin Newman,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
L. Decosne,
The Happenings,
Dark Day,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Main Source,
Black Moon,
The Neon Judgement,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Circle Jerks,
Gabor Szabo,
Prince Buster,
ABC,
Deadbeat,
Archie Shepp,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs, Notorious Big And Bone Thugs.
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.