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 Philippines and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Thompson Twins to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Joey Negro,
Ken Boothe,
Chris & Cosey,
Eve St. Jones,
Roy Ayers,
Marine Girls,
Althea and Donna,
Marcia Griffiths,
FM Einheit,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
Maleditus Sound,
Spandau Ballet,
The Fire Engines,
Qualms,
Fat Boys,
The Kinks,
Cheater Slicks,
Malaria!,
Crash Course in Science,
Section 25,
Hoover,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Duran Duran,
Circle Jerks,
Andrew Hill,
Robert Görl,
The Detroit Cobras,
Chris Corsano,
Half Japanese,
Laurel Aitken,
B.T. Express,
New Age Steppers,
Alton Ellis,
Brand Nubian,
China Crisis,
Anakelly,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Bobby Womack,
The Knickerbockers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sandy B,
Organ,
Flipper,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kerrie Biddell,
Ultra Naté,
The Human League,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
UT,
Harmonia,
Aural Exciters,
Joe Finger,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Max Romeo,
Matthew Bourne,
Ronan,
Depeche Mode,
Ten City,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.