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 Italy and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 New Age Steppers to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Unrelated Segments,
In Retrospect,
Mo-Dettes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lebanon Hanover,
H. Thieme,
The New Christs,
The Raincoats,
Average White Band,
Susan Cadogan,
Jacques Brel,
B.T. Express,
Moebius,
T. Rex,
Bush Tetras,
Michelle Simonal,
The Knickerbockers,
James White and The Blacks,
Al Stewart,
Ronnie Foster,
Negative Approach,
Eric Dolphy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sister Nancy,
The Angels of Light,
Chrome,
Dead Boys,
The Skatalites,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Arab on Radar,
John Foxx,
Can,
the Sonics,
Ponytail,
Interpol,
Barrington Levy,
Circle Jerks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Gladiators,
Archie Shepp,
Essential Logic,
Guru Guru,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
8 Eyed Spy,
Flipper,
Public Image Ltd.,
Metal Thangz,
Saccharine Trust,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tres Demented,
Black Moon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Moss Icon,
The Detroit Cobras,
Fela Kuti,
David Axelrod,
Wasted Youth,
The Beau Brummels,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Max Romeo,
Neil Young,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.