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 Indonesia and from Woodstock.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Flash Fearless to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lebanon Hanover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Stiv Bators,
Todd Terry,
Graham Central Station,
James White and The Blacks,
Subhumans,
A Certain Ratio,
K-Klass,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Pussy Galore,
Bill Near,
Lee Hazlewood,
Maurizio,
Joey Negro,
The Modern Lovers,
Aural Exciters,
This Heat,
The Cure,
Agitation Free,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Blossom Toes,
Alton Ellis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Heaven 17,
The Blues Magoos,
Arab on Radar,
Marine Girls,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
ABC,
The Gladiators,
Scan 7,
Mr. Review,
Jerry's Kids,
Rapeman,
Jimmy McGriff,
Albert Ayler,
Khruangbin,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Byrd,
Aloha Tigers,
Technova,
Camouflage,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Victims,
The Real Kids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Goldenarms,
Bauhaus,
JFA,
Lightning Bolt,
Robert Wyatt,
Neu!,
Juan Atkins,
The Residents,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Franke,
Derrick May,
Crash Course in Science,
Man Parrish,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.