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 Micronesia and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Section 25 to the grunge 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All The Victims tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Golliwogs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Half Japanese,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Johnny Clarke,
Sister Nancy,
DJ Style,
The Beau Brummels,
Brothers Johnson,
The Buckinghams,
The Dead C,
Whodini,
June of 44,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Y Pants,
Dead Boys,
Agitation Free,
Robert Hood,
The United States of America,
Minutemen,
T.S.O.L.,
Gregory Isaacs,
Newcleus,
Susan Cadogan,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Animal Collective,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ronnie Foster,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rotary Connection,
Heaven 17,
Make Up,
Crime,
Stereo Dub,
John Cale,
Bang On A Can,
Sun Ra,
Pantaleimon,
The Busters,
Q65,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rod Modell,
Audionom,
L. Decosne,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Young Marble Giants,
One Last Wish,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Martian,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wings,
Donny Hathaway,
Saccharine Trust,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Monks,
The Electric Prunes,
Von Mondo,
DJ Sneak,
Swell Maps,
Lalo Schifrin,
Warsaw,
Barrington Levy,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.