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 Sri Lanka and from Columbus.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar 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 Cal Tjader to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 PIL. All the underground hits.
All Reuben Wilson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hot Snakes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Subhumans,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lalo Schifrin,
Rotary Connection,
Tomorrow,
Todd Terry,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Real Kids,
John Lydon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Quantec,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
AZ,
The Doors,
Swans,
This Heat,
Pantytec,
The Cowsills,
Derrick May,
Aural Exciters,
The Leaves,
The Kinks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Knickerbockers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
U.S. Maple,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Girls At Our Best!,
Japan,
Youth Brigade,
Brand Nubian,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Grass Roots,
Nirvana,
Ludus,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Searchers,
David McCallum,
Au Pairs,
Alison Limerick,
Ultra Naté,
Sound Behaviour,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Desert Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Steve Hackett,
Spandau Ballet,
The Offenders,
John Foxx,
Ossler,
The Electric Prunes,
The Motions,
Flipper,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lightning Bolt,
The Evens,
Mr. Review,
Yellowson,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ice-T,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.