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 Philippines and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Steve Hackett to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Nation of Ulysses. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Blues Magoos,
Depeche Mode,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Pierre Henry,
Soft Cell,
The Evens,
T. Rex,
Wire,
Connie Case,
Nas,
Buzzcocks,
Todd Terry,
Erykah Badu,
Ten City,
Aaron Thompson,
Tubeway Army,
Susan Cadogan,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tom Boy,
Max Romeo,
The New Christs,
The Toasters,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The United States of America,
Oneida,
a-ha,
Maleditus Sound,
Magazine,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rapeman,
Dual Sessions,
The Last Poets,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Fuzztones,
Gang of Four,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Magma,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Offenders,
Andrew Hill,
Charles Mingus,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gastr Del Sol,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Brand Nubian,
The Red Krayola,
Tommy Roe,
EPMD,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
X-102,
Reagan Youth,
The Happenings,
Johnny Osbourne,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Banda Bassotti,
Mandrill,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.