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 Saudi Arabia and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 techno kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All Prince Buster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lower 48,
Trumans Water,
Rekid,
Urselle,
Skaos,
Bronski Beat,
Spoonie Gee,
Saccharine Trust,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Youth Brigade,
Fela Kuti,
Jandek,
Stetsasonic,
Country Teasers,
Eric Copeland,
Sandy B,
Angry Samoans,
MC5,
Boz Scaggs,
Morten Harket,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Names,
Johnny Clarke,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Detroit Cobras,
Eddi Front,
X-Ray Spex,
Alton Ellis,
Bang On A Can,
Groovy Waters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Derrick May,
Fat Boys,
Slave,
Judy Mowatt,
Soft Cell,
Quadrant,
Cheater Slicks,
Deakin,
Heaven 17,
The Residents,
Lindisfarne,
Barry Ungar,
The Five Americans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Black Pus,
Masters at Work,
X-102,
Icehouse,
The Selecter,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gong,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Reagan Youth,
New York Dolls,
Tim Buckley,
Television,
The Velvet Underground,
Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, Yaz.
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.