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 Canada and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 chamberlin 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 Zapp to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All Marcia Griffiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Todd Rundgren,
Susan Cadogan,
Minny Pops,
Danielle Patucci,
Juan Atkins,
Lightning Bolt,
X-101,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Radio Birdman,
Jerry's Kids,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Jeff Lynne,
Arthur Verocai,
the Germs,
Masters at Work,
Das Ding,
Television,
Hot Snakes,
Slave,
Bill Near,
Kurtis Blow,
Excepter,
Monks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ponytail,
Fluxion,
Soft Machine,
Aloha Tigers,
Scan 7,
Unrelated Segments,
Rakim,
Morten Harket,
Eden Ahbez,
Dorothy Ashby,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Letta Mbulu,
Marshall Jefferson,
Procol Harum,
Cameo,
Marine Girls,
Chris Corsano,
The United States of America,
Scratch Acid,
Whodini,
Simply Red,
kango's stein massive,
Cheater Slicks,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Matthew Bourne,
Connie Case,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Inner City,
The Fire Engines,
Qualms,
Agent Orange,
Brick,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Smiths,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Blues Magoos,
Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis, Mark Hollis.
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.