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 Equatorial Guinea and from Tehran.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Busters to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Deakin. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Visage,
Symarip,
Saccharine Trust,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Tres Demented,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cameo,
Roxy Music,
The United States of America,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rosa Yemen,
Tubeway Army,
The Birthday Party,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Man Parrish,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eurythmics,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Mummies,
Parry Music,
The Smoke,
Cheater Slicks,
UT,
Circle Jerks,
The Grass Roots,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Wally Richardson,
Leonard Cohen,
DNA,
Josef K,
John Lydon,
Spandau Ballet,
Amazonics,
Peter and Kerry,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Derrick May,
David McCallum,
Arthur Verocai,
Mad Mike,
Ossler,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Carl Craig,
The Neon Judgement,
Crime,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
New Order,
Minor Threat,
Simply Red,
Wolf Eyes,
The Zeros,
Scrapy,
Arcadia,
Barbara Tucker,
Television,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.