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 Serbia and from Spokane.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 marimba 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 Symarip to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Mandrill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultravox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Hot Snakes,
Black Bananas,
Motorama,
Maurizio,
Pole,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Rakim,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fela Kuti,
The Associates,
Chrome,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Parry Music,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kayak,
Reuben Wilson,
Livin' Joy,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
PIL,
Davy DMX,
Neu!,
The Blackbyrds,
The Saints,
Maleditus Sound,
Skriet,
One Last Wish,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Rod Modell,
The Fire Engines,
Urselle,
The United States of America,
Sixth Finger,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Altered Images,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Section 25,
Television,
Aswad,
Alton Ellis,
Minor Threat,
The Fuzztones,
R.M.O.,
F. McDonald,
Juan Atkins,
Lalo Schifrin,
Max Romeo,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Sheep,
Marshall Jefferson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Public Enemy,
Pantytec,
Subhumans,
Connie Case,
This Heat,
Blake Baxter,
Vladislav Delay,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Malaria!,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.