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 Burkina and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Goldenarms to the techno 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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The United States of America record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
LL Cool J,
Slick Rick,
Ken Boothe,
Desert Stars,
Don Cherry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The American Breed,
DNA,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Vainqueur,
Grauzone,
Harmonia,
Franke,
James White and The Blacks,
Khruangbin,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
L. Decosne,
Roy Ayers,
The Slackers,
Moebius,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The J.B.'s,
Black Pus,
John Foxx,
Q65,
Shuggie Otis,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Amon Düül,
Avey Tare,
The United States of America,
The Index,
Barry Ungar,
Technova,
Morten Harket,
Swans,
John Holt,
Mr. Review,
Aural Exciters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Danielle Patucci,
Big Daddy Kane,
In Retrospect,
Eddi Front,
Bootsy Collins,
Yusef Lateef,
Monolake,
Camberwell Now,
Drexciya,
World's Most,
Lungfish,
Drive Like Jehu,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Junior Murvin,
Sex Pistols,
Scion,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
New York Dolls,
Radio Birdman,
The Red Krayola,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks, Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks.
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.