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 Georgia and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the oboe 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 ABC to the punk 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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Electric Light Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
The Monks,
The Pop Group,
Los Fastidios,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Main Source,
Shoche,
Piero Umiliani,
The Cowsills,
Tears for Fears,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bang On A Can,
Swell Maps,
OOIOO,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Brand Nubian,
Gong,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ponytail,
The Happenings,
Eden Ahbez,
June of 44,
In Retrospect,
Porter Ricks,
Ossler,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Hoover,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Litter,
Q and Not U,
Black Bananas,
Skarface,
Intrusion,
The Mojo Men,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Slits,
The Knickerbockers,
Agent Orange,
Hardrive,
Darondo,
Audionom,
Marcia Griffiths,
Negative Approach,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
MC5,
Wolf Eyes,
Depeche Mode,
Sight & Sound,
Groovy Waters,
Marc Almond,
Steve Hackett,
Anakelly,
Roger Hodgson,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Flag,
Susan Cadogan,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
F. McDonald,
Jeru the Damaja,
Moss Icon,
the Slits,
Judy Mowatt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.