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 Slovakia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Sao Paulo.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Robert Hood to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erasure 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Blake Baxter,
Visage,
Mandrill,
Marc Almond,
the Bar-Kays,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Donny Hathaway,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bob Dylan,
Faraquet,
Gang of Four,
Cybotron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Liliput,
The Fugs,
Sight & Sound,
Roy Ayers,
Scrapy,
The Invisible,
The Happenings,
Lou Reed,
Howard Jones,
Pole,
The Walker Brothers,
Pere Ubu,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Prince Buster,
Wasted Youth,
Con Funk Shun,
Robert Görl,
Pierre Henry,
One Last Wish,
Franke,
Juan Atkins,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Harpers Bizarre,
Thompson Twins,
Yusef Lateef,
Moss Icon,
Alice Coltrane,
Organ,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Porter Ricks,
Mad Mike,
the Germs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Malaria!,
Neu!,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ultravox,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Cowsills,
Kerrie Biddell,
Half Japanese,
Easy Going,
Bill Near,
Dead Boys,
Sällskapet,
Marshall Jefferson,
Saccharine Trust,
The Dead C,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover, Lebanon Hanover.
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.