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 Kuwait and from Glasgow.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Qualms to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Sugar Minott. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pussy Galore,
Tommy Roe,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Human League,
Brick,
The Mojo Men,
Marmalade,
Black Pus,
Excepter,
The Last Poets,
Audionom,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Young Rascals,
Curtis Mayfield,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wolf Eyes,
Funky Four + One,
John Holt,
Scion,
Johnny Clarke,
Althea and Donna,
Q65,
Maurizio,
Black Moon,
Mo-Dettes,
EPMD,
Skarface,
the Slits,
Jacques Brel,
Kurtis Blow,
Lyres,
Little Man,
Jandek,
Quadrant,
Loose Ends,
Eve St. Jones,
The Searchers,
Black Sheep,
Erasure,
The Gladiators,
Glambeats Corp.,
Monolake,
The Leaves,
Charles Mingus,
New Order,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Trumans Water,
Soul Sonic Force,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Sugar Minott,
Kaleidoscope,
Thompson Twins,
Yusef Lateef,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Alison Limerick,
Silicon Teens,
Depeche Mode,
Ornette Coleman,
Mars,
Dark Day,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.