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 Ukraine and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 harpsichord 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 A Flock of Seagulls to the rap 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 Roxette. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Infiniti record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 sitar and a marimba 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 organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Index,
Hashim,
The Leaves,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tears for Fears,
Lucky Dragons,
The Remains,
Negative Approach,
The Fire Engines,
Mars,
Vainqueur,
Tres Demented,
Curtis Mayfield,
In Retrospect,
B.T. Express,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rapeman,
Connie Case,
CMW,
Shoche,
Quando Quango,
Monolake,
Rosa Yemen,
The Motions,
Soft Machine,
Sandy B,
Cal Tjader,
Smog,
Sparks,
Yaz,
The American Breed,
The Move,
JFA,
The New Christs,
The Gladiators,
Scott Walker,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eric Copeland,
Suburban Knight,
Vladislav Delay,
Boogie Down Productions,
Isaac Hayes,
Janne Schatter,
Mary Jane Girls,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Wake,
Marmalade,
48th St. Collective,
Fela Kuti,
Ice-T,
Rites of Spring,
Lou Christie,
Supertramp,
Donald Byrd,
Sun Ra,
Josef K,
Bauhaus,
Marc Almond,
Agent Orange,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.