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 Venezuela and from Lille.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
John Foxx,
The Grass Roots,
The J.B.'s,
Eve St. Jones,
Wasted Youth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ossler,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eddi Front,
Iggy Pop,
Arab on Radar,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
John Cale,
Hoover,
Kenny Larkin,
Throbbing Gristle,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott Heron,
Vainqueur,
Rosa Yemen,
China Crisis,
Absolute Body Control,
X-102,
Peter and Kerry,
David Bowie,
Saccharine Trust,
Flamin' Groovies,
Scion,
The Music Machine,
Maurizio,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jerry's Kids,
Charles Mingus,
Junior Murvin,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Star Department,
Nirvana,
Yazoo,
Eric Copeland,
Sugar Minott,
Roxy Music,
Juan Atkins,
Minny Pops,
Roy Ayers,
Agent Orange,
MDC,
Public Image Ltd.,
Surgeon,
New Order,
Man Parrish,
The Smiths,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Kinks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Symarip,
Dead Boys,
Johnny Clarke,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads, Severed Heads.
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.