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 Belize and from Manila.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Groovy Waters to the dance 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Move record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
The Victims,
Clear Light,
Angry Samoans,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Idris Muhammad,
Bill Wells,
Quantec,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Associates,
FM Einheit,
the Germs,
The Divine Comedy,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Fear,
Hardrive,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Detroit Cobras,
David Bowie,
KRS-One,
Adolescents,
Mandrill,
The Remains,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gang Starr,
the Swans,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Donny Hathaway,
Inner City,
Archie Shepp,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Susan Cadogan,
Donald Byrd,
Kaleidoscope,
Fela Kuti,
Brothers Johnson,
Avey Tare,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Saints,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Boz Scaggs,
Toni Rubio,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Freddie Wadling,
Roxette,
Swell Maps,
Anakelly,
the Normal,
The Fall,
The Birthday Party,
Soft Cell,
ABC,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Howard Jones,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Masters at Work,
Henry Cow,
Aloha Tigers,
Arab on Radar,
Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro, Joey Negro.
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.