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 Samoa and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Amon Düül II to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All June Days tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Max Romeo,
Scion,
Q65,
The Buckinghams,
Quantec,
Clear Light,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rosa Yemen,
Mr. Review,
Marc Almond,
Amazonics,
Aloha Tigers,
Jandek,
H. Thieme,
Yellowson,
Sun Ra,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Searchers,
The Seeds,
Malaria!,
Lower 48,
Stereo Dub,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Dead C,
Scan 7,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mary Jane Girls,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Monolake,
The Zeros,
Connie Case,
Banda Bassotti,
Trumans Water,
Barbara Tucker,
Electric Prunes,
Marshall Jefferson,
Pole,
Gang Gang Dance,
Drexciya,
Guru Guru,
Duran Duran,
Brass Construction,
Tres Demented,
Spoonie Gee,
The Remains,
Agitation Free,
Rakim,
The Young Rascals,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Barracudas,
Subhumans,
Johnny Osbourne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Skarface,
Crooked Eye,
Spandau Ballet,
Roxy Music,
Fela Kuti,
Rites of Spring,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.