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 Maldives and from Madrid.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Pere Ubu to the electroclash 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 Reuben Wilson. All the underground hits.
All B.T. Express tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Juan Atkins,
Ice-T,
The Real Kids,
Royal Trux,
Rufus Thomas,
Stockholm Monsters,
Byron Stingily,
London Community Gospel Choir,
June Days,
The Trojans,
Lower 48,
Laurel Aitken,
Roxy Music,
Visage,
Inner City,
Bobby Sherman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Sound,
Brothers Johnson,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Sonics,
Altered Images,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Supertramp,
Lindisfarne,
B.T. Express,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gregory Isaacs,
Masters at Work,
Carl Craig,
the Human League,
Maurizio,
Fluxion,
The Young Rascals,
Boz Scaggs,
Leonard Cohen,
Tom Boy,
Rosa Yemen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Liliput,
Rotary Connection,
the Association,
Fear,
EPMD,
The Buckinghams,
Subhumans,
Derrick May,
Echospace,
David Bowie,
Cymande,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grandmaster Flash,
Josef K,
X-102,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Cowsills,
Scan 7,
ABC,
The Pop Group,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.