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 Cambodia and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Barry Ungar to the grunge 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All The Neon Judgement tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Flesh Eaters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Buckinghams,
Archie Shepp,
Sun Ra,
Popol Vuh,
John Coltrane,
The Real Kids,
Todd Rundgren,
Isaac Hayes,
The Angels of Light,
T.S.O.L.,
World's Most,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Durutti Column,
Country Teasers,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
MC5,
Jacques Brel,
Fugazi,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Sonics,
Qualms,
Dark Day,
Scion,
Flipper,
Schoolly D,
The Pretty Things,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stereo Dub,
Graham Central Station,
Gang Gang Dance,
Peter & Gordon,
The Moody Blues,
Sound Behaviour,
Duran Duran,
A Certain Ratio,
Youth Brigade,
In Retrospect,
Wire,
Hot Snakes,
Cal Tjader,
The Five Americans,
Charles Mingus,
Skriet,
Heaven 17,
Erykah Badu,
Negative Approach,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Motions,
Howard Jones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Young Marble Giants,
Mantronix,
New Age Steppers,
X-101,
PIL,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
One Last Wish,
Bill Wells,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.