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 Algeria and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Aloha Tigers to the dance 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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All JFA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Parry Music 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 a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thompson Twins,
Saccharine Trust,
The Beau Brummels,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Suicide,
Pussy Galore,
The Last Poets,
Ultravox,
Arab on Radar,
K-Klass,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fugs,
The Five Americans,
Qualms,
The Golliwogs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bad Manners,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Drexciya,
Pagans,
Jeff Lynne,
The Evens,
The Moleskins,
Nick Fraelich,
Clear Light,
Niagra,
The Residents,
ABC,
Scion,
Youth Brigade,
EPMD,
John Cale,
Altered Images,
Porter Ricks,
Visage,
Black Moon,
the Association,
Adolescents,
Echospace,
Eden Ahbez,
Anakelly,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Althea and Donna,
Intrusion,
Lindisfarne,
In Retrospect,
Ultra Naté,
Masters at Work,
Matthew Bourne,
the Fania All-Stars,
Skriet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
X-102,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Judy Mowatt,
The Real Kids,
Moss Icon,
Subhumans,
Quando Quango,
Fear,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.