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 Pakistan and from Lille.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Taipei.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
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 CMW to the punk 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 June of 44. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Surgeon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Monolake,
Robert Görl,
The Moody Blues,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ultimate Spinach,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Alton Ellis,
Sister Nancy,
The Selecter,
Junior Murvin,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Simply Red,
Cecil Taylor,
The Trojans,
Lebanon Hanover,
Model 500,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Swans,
John Foxx,
Mission of Burma,
Radiohead,
The American Breed,
Con Funk Shun,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Smiths,
Skaos,
Wasted Youth,
The Wake,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Stockholm Monsters,
Scratch Acid,
T.S.O.L.,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Martian,
Mantronix,
The Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
Q and Not U,
Underground Resistance,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
a-ha,
Japan,
Nirvana,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Fugs,
Q65,
Roy Ayers,
The Star Department,
Ludus,
The Blackbyrds,
Monks,
Black Bananas,
The Fall,
Bang On A Can,
Tears for Fears,
Malaria!,
Byron Stingily,
Essential Logic,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville, Alphaville.
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.