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 Ireland and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Mexico City.
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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Television Personalities to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Whodini record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul II Soul record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Country Teasers,
Bang On A Can,
Bobby Byrd,
T.S.O.L.,
James White and The Blacks,
The Last Poets,
Buzzcocks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Doobie Brothers,
Youth Brigade,
Ponytail,
Popol Vuh,
The Invisible,
The Doors,
Letta Mbulu,
The Standells,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Schoolly D,
Jacques Brel,
Scion,
Arab on Radar,
Iggy Pop,
L. Decosne,
Skarface,
Goldenarms,
Lou Reed,
The J.B.'s,
Rapeman,
Amon Düül II,
Reagan Youth,
Main Source,
Delta 5,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Pylon,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Organ,
Reuben Wilson,
E-Dancer,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Blossom Toes,
Depeche Mode,
Lindisfarne,
Pantytec,
Harmonia,
Saccharine Trust,
Marc Almond,
Harry Pussy,
Wire,
Sparks,
Tom Boy,
June Days,
Minnie Riperton,
the Swans,
Donny Hathaway,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Modern Lovers,
Public Image Ltd.,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Minor Threat,
Derrick May,
Nico, Nico, Nico, Nico.
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.