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 Bangladesh and from Glasgow.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lagos.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Sam Rivers to the dance 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 X-101. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fear,
The Red Krayola,
Rufus Thomas,
Saccharine Trust,
Scion,
The Litter,
the Association,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tom Boy,
MC5,
DNA,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Bush Tetras,
Cecil Taylor,
Rod Modell,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fat Boys,
Joy Division,
Tubeway Army,
The Sound,
The Seeds,
Unwound,
Massinfluence,
John Coltrane,
Marmalade,
Model 500,
Dead Boys,
John Cale,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Skarface,
John Foxx,
The Velvet Underground,
The Smiths,
Bobby Sherman,
Sun City Girls,
The Doobie Brothers,
Rapeman,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Thompson Twins,
Tears for Fears,
Magma,
Altered Images,
Graham Central Station,
Livin' Joy,
Ken Boothe,
Jeff Lynne,
Sonny Sharrock,
Cluster,
The Evens,
Brothers Johnson,
Mantronix,
The Birthday Party,
Joey Negro,
Desert Stars,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Whodini,
Patti Smith,
The Young Rascals,
X-Ray Spex,
The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light, The Angels of Light.
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.