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 Tonga and from Lyon.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Techniques to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All DNA tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Sonics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Star Department record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Robert Görl,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Henry Cow,
L. Decosne,
Quando Quango,
8 Eyed Spy,
Loose Ends,
The Electric Prunes,
The Star Department,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deakin,
Cal Tjader,
Rod Modell,
F. McDonald,
Scratch Acid,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fire Engines,
Essential Logic,
Popol Vuh,
Brass Construction,
Animal Collective,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Barry Ungar,
Alphaville,
David Bowie,
The Pretty Things,
Gastr Del Sol,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ituana,
the Germs,
Magma,
The Human League,
Rekid,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Althea and Donna,
Byron Stingily,
Glenn Branca,
Oneida,
Y Pants,
Unrelated Segments,
JFA,
Khruangbin,
Sister Nancy,
Aaron Thompson,
Erykah Badu,
New Order,
Adolescents,
Funkadelic,
Siglo XX,
Subhumans,
Boz Scaggs,
Procol Harum,
Pylon,
Altered Images,
Con Funk Shun,
Outsiders,
The Skatalites,
Radiohead,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.