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 Senegal and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Barclay James Harvest to the grime 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 Japan. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Misunderstood 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Derrick May,
The Pretty Things,
Buzzcocks,
Tomorrow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Fania All-Stars,
AZ,
Harpers Bizarre,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bush Tetras,
Minnie Riperton,
Soft Cell,
Mars,
Ituana,
H. Thieme,
Minny Pops,
Theoretical Girls,
Soft Machine,
Amazonics,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Faust,
Todd Terry,
The Mummies,
Pantytec,
Max Romeo,
The Durutti Column,
The American Breed,
John Holt,
Warren Ellis,
Kayak,
Joe Smooth,
Joey Negro,
Main Source,
Thee Headcoats,
Gil Scott Heron,
Deepchord,
Brand Nubian,
Gong,
Eli Mardock,
Rites of Spring,
Whodini,
MDC,
The Gories,
Arab on Radar,
Public Enemy,
Jacob Miller,
The J.B.'s,
Chris Corsano,
Warsaw,
The Fugs,
The Invisible,
the Bar-Kays,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Carl Craig,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Motorama,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.