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 Israel and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Piero Umiliani to the techno 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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Janne Schatter 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Supertramp,
Interpol,
Eve St. Jones,
Masters at Work,
the Normal,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Joyce Sims,
The Blues Magoos,
Bush Tetras,
Kerrie Biddell,
Aswad,
X-Ray Spex,
Jawbox,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Black Dice,
Ossler,
Al Stewart,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Letta Mbulu,
The Gun Club,
FM Einheit,
Man Parrish,
Cal Tjader,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Fall,
Pet Shop Boys,
Darondo,
The New Christs,
Basic Channel,
Ronan,
DNA,
Kayak,
Gastr Del Sol,
Delta 5,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Smoke,
Prince Buster,
Crispian St. Peters,
Crime,
Television Personalities,
The Vogues,
Public Enemy,
Flipper,
Altered Images,
The Red Krayola,
The Cramps,
Cecil Taylor,
Hot Snakes,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ituana,
The Offenders,
Pagans,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Tomorrow,
Black Flag,
Television,
John Lydon,
Goldenarms,
The Mummies,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.