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 Bulgaria and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Shadows of Knight to the jazz 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joyce Sims 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Fania All-Stars,
Peter and Kerry,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Delta 5,
DNA,
Joyce Sims,
Roger Hodgson,
Roy Ayers,
Patti Smith,
The Saints,
The Busters,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
ABC,
The New Christs,
Anakelly,
Warsaw,
Dawn Penn,
FM Einheit,
The Residents,
Howard Jones,
a-ha,
James White and The Blacks,
Tubeway Army,
T.S.O.L.,
Darondo,
Jeff Lynne,
Index,
Stereo Dub,
Althea and Donna,
Radiohead,
Ronnie Foster,
Underground Resistance,
Arab on Radar,
Gang Starr,
Saccharine Trust,
Jeff Mills,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Vogues,
Wasted Youth,
Amon Düül,
Heaven 17,
Harpers Bizarre,
Cameo,
Pulsallama,
The Happenings,
Agitation Free,
Cecil Taylor,
Camouflage,
The Moody Blues,
Skarface,
Al Stewart,
Rekid,
Popol Vuh,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Searchers,
B.T. Express,
Quantec,
U.S. Maple,
Chris & Cosey,
Pole,
Crispian St. Peters,
Joensuu 1685,
A Certain Ratio,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.