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 Bahrain and from Delhi.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sonics to the jazz 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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Chrome tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Association record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
June Days,
The Evens,
Rufus Thomas,
Funkadelic,
Crime,
Sällskapet,
Jandek,
Dave Gahan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Gladiators,
R.M.O.,
The Five Americans,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Babytalk,
The Slackers,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Dead C,
Curtis Mayfield,
Theoretical Girls,
Parry Music,
K-Klass,
Lightning Bolt,
The Real Kids,
Pole,
Fatback Band,
Jerry's Kids,
Big Daddy Kane,
Soul II Soul,
These Immortal Souls,
Niagra,
D'Angelo,
The Selecter,
Maurizio,
A Certain Ratio,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eddi Front,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jimmy McGriff,
The American Breed,
Barrington Levy,
John Lydon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Agent Orange,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Lungfish,
Newcleus,
John Cale,
Avey Tare,
Althea and Donna,
Marshall Jefferson,
Camberwell Now,
Cheater Slicks,
The Barracudas,
Funky Four + One,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Doors,
Crash Course in Science,
Fear,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.