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 Saudi Arabia and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Main Source to the grunge 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Ituana tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
The Moody Blues,
Anthony Braxton,
Roger Hodgson,
Deakin,
Josef K,
This Heat,
Reagan Youth,
Radiohead,
The Sound,
The Gories,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Mary Jane Girls,
Dawn Penn,
Gang Starr,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eli Mardock,
The Dead C,
Au Pairs,
Wire,
Interpol,
Crime,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Infiniti,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
LL Cool J,
T. Rex,
Pierre Henry,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Accadde A,
Mo-Dettes,
Al Stewart,
Monolake,
Zapp,
Mandrill,
The Victims,
Parry Music,
The Saints,
The Vogues,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Wings,
Laurel Aitken,
New York Dolls,
Ponytail,
Funkadelic,
Cecil Taylor,
Pet Shop Boys,
Japan,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Monks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Slackers,
Underground Resistance,
The Walker Brothers,
the Sonics,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Franke,
Ludus,
Supertramp,
Sugar Minott,
Can,
Simply Red,
Eric Copeland,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.