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 Portugal and from London.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Last Poets to the electroclash 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 Kevin Saunderson. All the underground hits.
All Manfred Mann's Earth Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roger Hodgson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wally Richardson,
Rufus Thomas,
Flash Fearless,
Drexciya,
the Slits,
The Techniques,
Groovy Waters,
The Happenings,
The Toasters,
Reuben Wilson,
Outsiders,
Janne Schatter,
Hashim,
Robert Wyatt,
Piero Umiliani,
Terrestrial Tones,
Model 500,
The Fall,
Byron Stingily,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Smoke,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minor Threat,
the Normal,
Crooked Eye,
Curtis Mayfield,
Oneida,
The Music Machine,
The Smiths,
Josef K,
Index,
Spandau Ballet,
Black Flag,
Kas Product,
Porter Ricks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Jeff Mills,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gang Green,
The Monks,
Ohio Players,
Roger Hodgson,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lindisfarne,
Quantec,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Offenders,
the Germs,
EPMD,
Funkadelic,
La Düsseldorf,
Brothers Johnson,
Masters at Work,
Joey Negro,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Cymande,
Soul II Soul,
Jeru the Damaja,
CMW,
Howard Jones,
Gregory Isaacs,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.