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 Rwanda and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Procol Harum to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Sound. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Popol Vuh record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Youth Brigade,
Quadrant,
Bush Tetras,
Alice Coltrane,
Bauhaus,
The Grass Roots,
Sex Pistols,
Pere Ubu,
Mission of Burma,
L. Decosne,
Crime,
Hasil Adkins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Buzzcocks,
Reuben Wilson,
Juan Atkins,
Moss Icon,
Guru Guru,
Basic Channel,
Arthur Verocai,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Pet Shop Boys,
the Swans,
Nick Fraelich,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Shoche,
Reagan Youth,
Unwound,
Suburban Knight,
Sixth Finger,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Brothers Johnson,
The Monks,
London Community Gospel Choir,
B.T. Express,
Joyce Sims,
Soulsonic Force,
Cameo,
John Coltrane,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Pop Group,
Pussy Galore,
Pharoah Sanders,
Letta Mbulu,
Intrusion,
Con Funk Shun,
The Divine Comedy,
The Dead C,
The Searchers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Blake Baxter,
Howard Jones,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Flesh Eaters,
Charles Mingus,
Harry Pussy,
Roxette,
Ralphi Rosario,
These Immortal Souls,
Easy Going,
Wings,
Groovy Waters,
Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel, Jacques Brel.
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.