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 Tokyo.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Reagan Youth to the crunk 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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Rhythm & Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
Godley & Creme,
Joyce Sims,
Kaleidoscope,
The Mummies,
The Gun Club,
Monks,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ornette Coleman,
Oblivians,
The Residents,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sex Pistols,
Marine Girls,
Wally Richardson,
Absolute Body Control,
Cluster,
Nik Kershaw,
Groovy Waters,
Chris & Cosey,
The Martian,
John Holt,
John Foxx,
Kenny Larkin,
Yaz,
Arthur Verocai,
Rakim,
The Smiths,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sexual Harrassment,
Letta Mbulu,
Fear,
R.M.O.,
Terrestrial Tones,
Isaac Hayes,
Mr. Review,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Guru Guru,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Popol Vuh,
Glenn Branca,
Cybotron,
Minutemen,
Mars,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Fugs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cymande,
the Swans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Wake,
The Saints,
Make Up,
Ludus,
PIL,
Tim Buckley,
The Victims,
Inner City,
Maleditus Sound,
Wire,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.