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 Panama and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 808 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 Dead C to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Howard Jones,
The Names,
Laurel Aitken,
the Normal,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Television Personalities,
Pantaleimon,
Audionom,
Wire,
Mary Jane Girls,
Black Moon,
The Gories,
Soft Machine,
The Saints,
Vainqueur,
Kayak,
The Pop Group,
Kenny Larkin,
Bobby Sherman,
Patti Smith,
The Mojo Men,
The Victims,
Agent Orange,
Cal Tjader,
the Swans,
Country Teasers,
John Foxx,
Bang On A Can,
The Offenders,
Fluxion,
Schoolly D,
the Association,
Sarah Menescal,
Lyres,
The Fortunes,
U.S. Maple,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Red Krayola,
The Walker Brothers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marc Almond,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Glenn Branca,
Skriet,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Durutti Column,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tim Buckley,
Marshall Jefferson,
Byron Stingily,
Bootsy Collins,
Minny Pops,
Basic Channel,
Eden Ahbez,
Loose Ends,
Sun City Girls,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Gladiators,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Zeros,
The Barracudas,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.