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 Egypt and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gang Green to the disco 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 Marvin Gaye. All the underground hits.
All James White and The Blacks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camouflage,
Pet Shop Boys,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Harmonia,
Slave,
Pere Ubu,
Hoover,
Byron Stingily,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Alarm Clocks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mr. Review,
Josef K,
Television,
Sonny Sharrock,
Ituana,
Cymande,
The Slackers,
Kerri Chandler,
Adolescents,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Graham Central Station,
Peter and Kerry,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Fortunes,
Scott Walker,
Prince Buster,
Nas,
John Lydon,
The Flesh Eaters,
Sandy B,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cluster,
The New Christs,
Idris Muhammad,
Lucky Dragons,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Robert Hood,
The Zeros,
Flipper,
Alphaville,
Tomorrow,
Grandmaster Flash,
Man Eating Sloth,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Alton Ellis,
The Fugs,
Sarah Menescal,
Grey Daturas,
Trumans Water,
Rod Modell,
Steve Hackett,
Pagans,
The Saints,
The Gladiators,
ABBA,
Pole,
Yellowson,
The Monochrome Set,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.