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 Zimbabwe and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 Johannesburg and Lille.
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 rhodes 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 Crash Course in Science to the punk 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 Ludus. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare 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 harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Gabor Szabo,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Knickerbockers,
Pantytec,
Skarface,
The Star Department,
Lee Hazlewood,
Parry Music,
The Zeros,
X-101,
Pierre Henry,
Jacques Brel,
The Count Five,
Rosa Yemen,
Young Marble Giants,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Blake Baxter,
Maleditus Sound,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Radio Birdman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Mojo Men,
Derrick Morgan,
Faust,
DJ Style,
Neu!,
UT,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ossler,
Moss Icon,
Albert Ayler,
Girls At Our Best!,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Lower 48,
Hoover,
Marshall Jefferson,
Gichy Dan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sound Behaviour,
Zero Boys,
Outsiders,
AZ,
Cymande,
Q65,
X-Ray Spex,
The Moody Blues,
Nico,
Alphaville,
Harry Pussy,
Matthew Bourne,
Blossom Toes,
Darondo,
Susan Cadogan,
Crooked Eye,
The Blues Magoos,
Leonard Cohen,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Barclay James Harvest,
Scratch Acid,
Arthur Verocai,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.