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 Barbados and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the 808 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 The Neon Judgement to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All PIL tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Glambeats Corp. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Juan Atkins,
Thee Headcoats,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Traffic Nightmare,
Blancmange,
Skarface,
Rufus Thomas,
Gang Gang Dance,
Thompson Twins,
Sight & Sound,
The United States of America,
Intrusion,
Adolescents,
Amazonics,
Jeru the Damaja,
Boz Scaggs,
Throbbing Gristle,
Y Pants,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tubeway Army,
48th St. Collective,
Wings,
John Cale,
Althea and Donna,
The Kinks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Magazine,
Lungfish,
The Last Poets,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rites of Spring,
Youth Brigade,
Sexual Harrassment,
JFA,
The Fall,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Brothers Johnson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Godley & Creme,
Sugar Minott,
The Durutti Column,
The Move,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bauhaus,
Tears for Fears,
Letta Mbulu,
Fad Gadget,
The Tremeloes,
Unrelated Segments,
Leonard Cohen,
Avey Tare,
Robert Hood,
Franke,
The Evens,
Faust,
Vainqueur,
June Days,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.