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 Colombia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the guitar 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 DJ Sneak to the grunge 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 Piero Umiliani. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Techniques,
Lindisfarne,
Camouflage,
The American Breed,
Minnie Riperton,
Harry Pussy,
Banda Bassotti,
Marine Girls,
Graham Central Station,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Essential Logic,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New Age Steppers,
Wire,
Angry Samoans,
Harpers Bizarre,
Amon Düül,
Alison Limerick,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Eric B and Rakim,
Flash Fearless,
The Tremeloes,
Rites of Spring,
Jandek,
Surgeon,
Bill Wells,
Dennis Brown,
Gichy Dan,
Guru Guru,
Soulsonic Force,
Motorama,
Boz Scaggs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Fugazi,
AZ,
Bobby Womack,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Desert Stars,
The Cure,
Make Up,
Fear,
The Slits,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joe Smooth,
Pole,
Sixth Finger,
Colin Newman,
Dawn Penn,
The Searchers,
In Retrospect,
Erasure,
Pussy Galore,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Last Poets,
Leonard Cohen,
Unrelated Segments,
Freddie Wadling,
Alton Ellis,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.