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 Namibia and from Salvador.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Tears for Fears to the crunk 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 Ronnie Foster. All the underground hits.
All Excepter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Wells 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Young Rascals record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultravox,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pet Shop Boys,
Bad Manners,
Pagans,
Laurel Aitken,
Section 25,
The Index,
Radio Birdman,
Silicon Teens,
Clear Light,
Althea and Donna,
X-102,
Chrome,
Sexual Harrassment,
Jawbox,
Khruangbin,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Young Rascals,
Negative Approach,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eric Copeland,
Rufus Thomas,
Whodini,
Matthew Halsall,
The Searchers,
Unrelated Segments,
Robert Hood,
Cymande,
Lou Reed,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Moody Blues,
The J.B.'s,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Blackbyrds,
Wasted Youth,
Los Fastidios,
Absolute Body Control,
Rosa Yemen,
Rekid,
Tubeway Army,
Essential Logic,
The Black Dice,
Freddie Wadling,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Slits,
Kayak,
Warren Ellis,
Dark Day,
Gong,
Cal Tjader,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Underground Resistance,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Grey Daturas,
Chris Corsano,
Bill Wells,
Make Up,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.