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 Nepal and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 Tehran and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 the Fania All-Stars to the punk 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 Sex Pistols. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABBA,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lakeside,
Michelle Simonal,
Dark Day,
Graham Central Station,
Bluetip,
Todd Terry,
Bootsy Collins,
The Sisters of Mercy,
X-101,
The Dead C,
E-Dancer,
Magma,
Hot Snakes,
Fatback Band,
Porter Ricks,
The Techniques,
Sister Nancy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Terry Callier,
Motorama,
Soul Sonic Force,
Reagan Youth,
Angry Samoans,
F. McDonald,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Flash Fearless,
Moss Icon,
Black Flag,
The Saints,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Modern Lovers,
The New Christs,
The Trojans,
Tubeway Army,
Ultra Naté,
Sound Behaviour,
Scott Walker,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Fall,
ABC,
Bauhaus,
Technova,
Yazoo,
The Fire Engines,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Human League,
The Human League,
Rosa Yemen,
Surgeon,
Outsiders,
Aswad,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Flipper,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Desert Stars,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.