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 Vietnam and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Metal Thangz to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Jandek,
the Germs,
Japan,
Fear,
Sex Pistols,
Underground Resistance,
The Young Rascals,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bluetip,
Stiv Bators,
Yaz,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kurtis Blow,
Schoolly D,
Newcleus,
Max Romeo,
Aural Exciters,
Nirvana,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Soft Cell,
Cheater Slicks,
John Coltrane,
Eric Copeland,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alice Coltrane,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
ABBA,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scion,
Sandy B,
The Evens,
U.S. Maple,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Johnny Osbourne,
Harry Pussy,
Rakim,
Jimmy McGriff,
Amon Düül II,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Rod Modell,
The Human League,
10cc,
Arab on Radar,
James Chance & The Contortions,
CMW,
Visage,
Funkadelic,
Laurel Aitken,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Simply Red,
LL Cool J,
Magazine,
The Moody Blues,
The Slackers,
Anakelly,
Godley & Creme,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Quando Quango,
Mark Hollis,
Pere Ubu,
Y Pants,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.