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 St Lucia 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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 EPMD to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Procol Harum. All the underground hits.
All The Happenings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud 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 guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barclay James Harvest,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Star Department,
Soul Sonic Force,
Jerry's Kids,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Residents,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gang of Four,
Man Eating Sloth,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Dirtbombs,
Eric Copeland,
Flash Fearless,
The Gladiators,
Masters at Work,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pole,
Motorama,
Pussy Galore,
Mr. Review,
R.M.O.,
The Birthday Party,
the Germs,
Magazine,
The Vogues,
La Düsseldorf,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Standells,
Erasure,
Boogie Down Productions,
Flipper,
Kaleidoscope,
Siglo XX,
The Names,
Rufus Thomas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Walker Brothers,
Yaz,
Audionom,
Jacques Brel,
Bobby Byrd,
Robert Wyatt,
The Fuzztones,
Amon Düül,
The Trojans,
Scion,
Rosa Yemen,
Niagra,
Subhumans,
Hashim,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Johnny Clarke,
Mission of Burma,
Rotary Connection,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Red Krayola,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.