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 Slovakia and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Leaves. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Sex Pistols,
kango's stein massive,
The Smiths,
Kayak,
Accadde A,
Sparks,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cybotron,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Toasters,
Black Sheep,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joe Finger,
Ten City,
Kurtis Blow,
Underground Resistance,
Radiohead,
U.S. Maple,
Infiniti,
The Fuzztones,
Throbbing Gristle,
MDC,
Peter and Kerry,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Negative Approach,
Minnie Riperton,
In Retrospect,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kenny Larkin,
Roy Ayers,
Lindisfarne,
the Germs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Make Up,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Shadows of Knight,
Outsiders,
Circle Jerks,
Blancmange,
Ralphi Rosario,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soul II Soul,
Joy Division,
The Beau Brummels,
Terry Callier,
Intrusion,
Nas,
Aswad,
John Holt,
Au Pairs,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Saints,
The Pretty Things,
Sister Nancy,
Mission of Burma,
James White and The Blacks,
The Kinks,
The Last Poets,
Dave Gahan,
Audionom,
The Divine Comedy,
LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J, LL Cool J.
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.