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 Botswana and from Manila.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Spandau Ballet to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lou Christie. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Black Pus,
Piero Umiliani,
Eric Copeland,
Fugazi,
Nik Kershaw,
T. Rex,
Cluster,
Franke,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Heaven 17,
Scan 7,
The Birthday Party,
Funkadelic,
Sparks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Pet Shop Boys,
U.S. Maple,
Ituana,
Bob Dylan,
Section 25,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Hashim,
Mandrill,
Joey Negro,
Laurel Aitken,
Roger Hodgson,
Brass Construction,
Byron Stingily,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sound Behaviour,
Public Enemy,
Model 500,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Scrapy,
This Heat,
Neil Young,
Leonard Cohen,
The Selecter,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Mummies,
The Human League,
Curtis Mayfield,
AZ,
The Grass Roots,
Derrick May,
The Angels of Light,
Todd Terry,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Fugs,
Eli Mardock,
Alphaville,
Albert Ayler,
FM Einheit,
Severed Heads,
Eric Dolphy,
The Red Krayola,
Lebanon Hanover,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Oblivians,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.