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 Russia and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Tehran.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Jacques Brel to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Dark Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
X-102,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bill Wells,
DJ Sneak,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Agitation Free,
Chrome,
Animal Collective,
Easy Going,
The Alarm Clocks,
Danielle Patucci,
A Certain Ratio,
Deakin,
Section 25,
The Smoke,
LL Cool J,
The Young Rascals,
Con Funk Shun,
Crispian St. Peters,
Kenny Larkin,
The Five Americans,
Blancmange,
Index,
One Last Wish,
The Trojans,
Blossom Toes,
Nico,
Slave,
Tears for Fears,
The Red Krayola,
The Slackers,
Andrew Hill,
Davy DMX,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Dead Boys,
Fela Kuti,
Bluetip,
Althea and Donna,
Mad Mike,
Newcleus,
The United States of America,
Sexual Harrassment,
Magazine,
Faust,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Khruangbin,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Colin Newman,
Pharoah Sanders,
Oblivians,
Dawn Penn,
Schoolly D,
The Knickerbockers,
Mo-Dettes,
The Modern Lovers,
JFA,
Al Stewart,
Masters at Work,
Terrestrial Tones,
Aloha Tigers,
Lindisfarne,
Todd Terry,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.