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 Kenya and from Winnipeg.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Quando Quango to the rap 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 Pet Shop Boys. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
The Raincoats,
Kevin Saunderson,
Index,
Henry Cow,
Bad Manners,
Cecil Taylor,
Jandek,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Black Dice,
Derrick Morgan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Minutemen,
Jeff Mills,
kango's stein massive,
Funky Four + One,
Anthony Braxton,
Visage,
Barrington Levy,
Lou Christie,
Quadrant,
Byron Stingily,
T. Rex,
New Age Steppers,
Drive Like Jehu,
Aaron Thompson,
Patti Smith,
Hasil Adkins,
The Slackers,
Essential Logic,
Siglo XX,
Joyce Sims,
Theoretical Girls,
Panda Bear,
Darondo,
Nik Kershaw,
Maurizio,
The Alarm Clocks,
Niagra,
Whodini,
Slick Rick,
Monks,
The Mojo Men,
Minnie Riperton,
Arcadia,
Goldenarms,
Fluxion,
Brick,
Lindisfarne,
One Last Wish,
Faraquet,
Don Cherry,
Spandau Ballet,
The Gories,
Flash Fearless,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Mantronix,
Flipper,
Matthew Bourne,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.