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 Dominica and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 chamberlin 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Motorama,
Talk Talk,
Nation of Ulysses,
June Days,
Fear,
Al Stewart,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bill Near,
John Holt,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mr. Review,
Marc Almond,
Lindisfarne,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Grauzone,
The Mojo Men,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Au Pairs,
Kas Product,
the Fania All-Stars,
Iggy Pop,
FM Einheit,
Marshall Jefferson,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Charles Mingus,
The Sound,
Marine Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pierre Henry,
Groovy Waters,
New Order,
Stetsasonic,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jacob Miller,
MC5,
Joyce Sims,
The Saints,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Thee Headcoats,
The Velvet Underground,
Prince Buster,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soft Machine,
Camouflage,
Laurel Aitken,
Metal Thangz,
Black Flag,
The Knickerbockers,
Pantytec,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Nico,
Simply Red,
T. Rex,
Aloha Tigers,
Eli Mardock,
Kayak,
Faust,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.