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 Laos and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Maleditus Sound to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Star Department. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
The Raincoats,
Crispian St. Peters,
Scan 7,
The Blackbyrds,
Wire,
Max Romeo,
The Mummies,
Intrusion,
Pole,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Toasters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Subhumans,
Laurel Aitken,
The Dead C,
Trumans Water,
Simply Red,
the Slits,
Prince Buster,
The Vogues,
Talk Talk,
Aswad,
Urselle,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Barracudas,
Derrick Morgan,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Martian,
Monks,
Pantaleimon,
Flash Fearless,
Neil Young,
Mary Jane Girls,
Parry Music,
Procol Harum,
the Bar-Kays,
The Angels of Light,
Angry Samoans,
JFA,
Eurythmics,
Desert Stars,
Nirvana,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Banda Bassotti,
Bush Tetras,
Little Man,
E-Dancer,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Symarip,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fluxion,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ultra Naté,
The Zeros,
Gabor Szabo,
The Fire Engines,
Bauhaus,
Donald Byrd,
Hasil Adkins,
Scrapy,
The Offenders,
B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express, B.T. Express.
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.