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 Poland and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Copenhagen.
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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Wally Richardson to the rap 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Kool Moe Dee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Human League,
Angry Samoans,
The Cure,
The United States of America,
Nico,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Jacob Miller,
Das Ding,
Rekid,
These Immortal Souls,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Henry Cow,
The Cowsills,
Simply Red,
Fluxion,
Tubeway Army,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Leaves,
Grauzone,
David McCallum,
Shoche,
Arcadia,
Siglo XX,
cv313,
a-ha,
Mandrill,
Dawn Penn,
Eden Ahbez,
Girls At Our Best!,
Erykah Badu,
Intrusion,
Wasted Youth,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Neon Judgement,
Mission of Burma,
Index,
Anakelly,
Charles Mingus,
Little Man,
Unwound,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Public Enemy,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Interpol,
Gang Gang Dance,
Wings,
Agitation Free,
Niagra,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Barracudas,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Roy Ayers,
Black Sheep,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Deadbeat,
The Red Krayola,
Morten Harket,
Deepchord,
The Smoke,
Rosa Yemen,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.