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 Argentina and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage 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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 marimba 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 The Human League to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Q and Not U. All the underground hits.
All Brick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brass Construction 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minor Threat,
Duran Duran,
Chrome,
Derrick May,
John Foxx,
Sonny Sharrock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ultra Naté,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Archie Shepp,
Radio Birdman,
Suicide,
Bobby Sherman,
Throbbing Gristle,
Laurel Aitken,
Albert Ayler,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bill Wells,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Jeff Lynne,
Dawn Penn,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Music Machine,
Gong,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Names,
Mission of Burma,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Knickerbockers,
Magazine,
Marine Girls,
Pagans,
The Blues Magoos,
Patti Smith,
the Bar-Kays,
L. Decosne,
Scientists,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Swans,
Simply Red,
Fad Gadget,
Livin' Joy,
Cheater Slicks,
Mo-Dettes,
Warren Ellis,
Zero Boys,
The Seeds,
Shoche,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Spoonie Gee,
Flash Fearless,
Janne Schatter,
F. McDonald,
Lucky Dragons,
Scan 7,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ornette Coleman,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.