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 Tuvalu and from Copenhagen.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 marimba 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 UT to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 ABBA. All the underground hits.
All Andrew Hill tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erasure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oblivians,
F. McDonald,
The Angels of Light,
Television Personalities,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aloha Tigers,
Masters at Work,
Zapp,
The Dead C,
Goldenarms,
The Stooges,
Duran Duran,
Drexciya,
Procol Harum,
The Modern Lovers,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Normal,
Howard Jones,
The Alarm Clocks,
Magma,
The Blackbyrds,
Severed Heads,
Radio Birdman,
Swans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pylon,
Deepchord,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nas,
Quando Quango,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Glambeats Corp.,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Grauzone,
Sex Pistols,
Sixth Finger,
Barry Ungar,
Kayak,
Joyce Sims,
Rapeman,
Rod Modell,
Ornette Coleman,
The Mummies,
Derrick Morgan,
Japan,
Derrick May,
Ponytail,
The Buckinghams,
Adolescents,
Youth Brigade,
The Index,
Desert Stars,
Connie Case,
Scan 7,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Saints,
Flash Fearless,
Traffic Nightmare,
Donny Hathaway,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.