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 Lebanon and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 The Zeros to the punk 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 Model 500. All the underground hits.
All Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s 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 Deepchord record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Techniques,
Matthew Bourne,
the Swans,
B.T. Express,
Malaria!,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Toni Rubio,
Depeche Mode,
Accadde A,
Kurtis Blow,
Oblivians,
Charles Mingus,
Gang Green,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Kinks,
Wings,
Q and Not U,
Lightning Bolt,
10cc,
Schoolly D,
DNA,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Buzzcocks,
Parry Music,
Tropical Tobacco,
Boz Scaggs,
Harry Pussy,
Warsaw,
EPMD,
Graham Central Station,
Nation of Ulysses,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ultra Naté,
Soul II Soul,
The Smoke,
Ice-T,
The Martian,
Eric B and Rakim,
Jeff Lynne,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Prince Buster,
The Sonics,
Ornette Coleman,
The Durutti Column,
Ralphi Rosario,
This Heat,
The Birthday Party,
The Cure,
Joe Finger,
Absolute Body Control,
Steve Hackett,
Scott Walker,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mandrill,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Slick Rick,
Gang of Four,
Moss Icon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Neil Young,
Nik Kershaw,
Country Joe & The Fish,
X-101,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.