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 Turkey and from Stockholm.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Blues Magoos to the disco 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jacques Brel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eurythmics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
Excepter,
Sun Ra,
Cecil Taylor,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blossom Toes,
Laurel Aitken,
Wolf Eyes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ludus,
Main Source,
Ronnie Foster,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Scrapy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Harpers Bizarre,
Radio Birdman,
Dennis Brown,
Slick Rick,
Clear Light,
Joey Negro,
Chrome,
Soft Cell,
Outsiders,
Severed Heads,
Hoover,
Skriet,
Moby Grape,
Underground Resistance,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Make Up,
Spoonie Gee,
Minnie Riperton,
Derrick Morgan,
Janne Schatter,
Loose Ends,
Harry Pussy,
Soulsonic Force,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ohio Players,
Prince Buster,
Sexual Harrassment,
Oblivians,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Grass Roots,
The Move,
Graham Central Station,
Cal Tjader,
Mars,
Newcleus,
Quantec,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Chris & Cosey,
Panda Bear,
Hashim,
Howard Jones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Maleditus Sound,
Sarah Menescal,
Reagan Youth,
Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy, Tom Boy.
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.