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 Honduras and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 organ 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 Barracudas to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All JFA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Teenage Jesus and the Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Slackers,
Pussy Galore,
Drexciya,
The Detroit Cobras,
Scrapy,
The Selecter,
Slave,
Harpers Bizarre,
Simply Red,
Tommy Roe,
Soul II Soul,
Hoover,
Man Parrish,
Kerri Chandler,
Dual Sessions,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Fania All-Stars,
Easy Going,
The Martian,
Rhythm & Sound,
Don Cherry,
Matthew Bourne,
Silicon Teens,
Little Man,
The Fugs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sam Rivers,
Fatback Band,
Cymande,
Ken Boothe,
Wire,
Man Eating Sloth,
Warren Ellis,
Pharoah Sanders,
Clear Light,
L. Decosne,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Juan Atkins,
Pere Ubu,
Youth Brigade,
The Names,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sparks,
Arthur Verocai,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Pagans,
Gichy Dan,
Bobby Sherman,
The Buckinghams,
Nation of Ulysses,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Flesh Eaters,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Monks,
Unwound,
Barclay James Harvest,
Flash Fearless,
Danielle Patucci,
the Soft Cell,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.