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 Albania and from Portland.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Buckinghams to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Can. All the underground hits.
All Crooked Eye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Offenders,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Flesh Eaters,
FM Einheit,
CMW,
Mars,
Anakelly,
Yaz,
Traffic Nightmare,
Au Pairs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Soulsonic Force,
Skarface,
Pantytec,
Fad Gadget,
a-ha,
Soul Sonic Force,
Drive Like Jehu,
Flash Fearless,
Aloha Tigers,
Althea and Donna,
The Fuzztones,
Chrome,
These Immortal Souls,
T.S.O.L.,
The Star Department,
Amon Düül,
Buzzcocks,
Idris Muhammad,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Hardrive,
Rufus Thomas,
The Victims,
Derrick Morgan,
Terry Callier,
Schoolly D,
Ice-T,
Johnny Osbourne,
Surgeon,
Todd Rundgren,
The Music Machine,
Steve Hackett,
Von Mondo,
Gerry Rafferty,
T. Rex,
Jacques Brel,
The Barracudas,
Depeche Mode,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Wire,
Franke,
EPMD,
Rakim,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ralphi Rosario,
ABBA,
Ituana,
Japan,
The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement, The Neon Judgement.
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.