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 Poland and from Lyon.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Donald Fagen 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the grunge 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 Man Parrish. All the underground hits.
All Swans 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 rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a JFA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
B.T. Express,
Fela Kuti,
Mad Mike,
Camouflage,
Ken Boothe,
Moss Icon,
Shoche,
Tomorrow,
Sandy B,
Todd Rundgren,
Tom Boy,
Sonic Youth,
Rapeman,
The Busters,
Blossom Toes,
Vainqueur,
Rekid,
John Cale,
Country Teasers,
Alton Ellis,
Rakim,
Brass Construction,
Can,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Remains,
The Vogues,
Lindisfarne,
Swans,
Sex Pistols,
Khruangbin,
R.M.O.,
Curtis Mayfield,
Shuggie Otis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rufus Thomas,
Simply Red,
Suburban Knight,
Radiopuhelimet,
Heaven 17,
Davy DMX,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Names,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Stockholm Monsters,
Los Fastidios,
Aloha Tigers,
The Slackers,
Nas,
Deadbeat,
Procol Harum,
Excepter,
John Coltrane,
Flipper,
The Motions,
Accadde A,
Sun City Girls,
Urselle,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
ABC,
Lungfish,
X-Ray Spex,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.