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 Latvia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Index to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Steve Hackett tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every World's Most 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Sound Behaviour,
Morten Harket,
Mars,
Con Funk Shun,
Kevin Saunderson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Derrick May,
Schoolly D,
Barry Ungar,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Harry Pussy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rhythm & Sound,
Jimmy McGriff,
Qualms,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Gladiators,
Intrusion,
Hoover,
Glenn Branca,
Depeche Mode,
PIL,
Electric Prunes,
Radio Birdman,
Agitation Free,
Roy Ayers,
Ituana,
Niagra,
the Sonics,
The Angels of Light,
Pantytec,
Buzzcocks,
Kerri Chandler,
Faraquet,
Marcia Griffiths,
Howard Jones,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Peter & Gordon,
Eli Mardock,
Davy DMX,
The Real Kids,
Albert Ayler,
F. McDonald,
Pet Shop Boys,
Visage,
Soft Machine,
The Knickerbockers,
Little Man,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
John Foxx,
Bootsy Collins,
a-ha,
Fear,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Durutti Column,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.