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 Mauritania and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Section 25 to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rapeman. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Yellowson,
Lightning Bolt,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bob Dylan,
The Wake,
Leonard Cohen,
Kenny Larkin,
Stockholm Monsters,
Fela Kuti,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Pantaleimon,
Todd Rundgren,
Scan 7,
Throbbing Gristle,
Terrestrial Tones,
Simply Red,
Procol Harum,
Sight & Sound,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Tom Boy,
The Mummies,
The Sonics,
Donald Byrd,
Barrington Levy,
K-Klass,
Jacques Brel,
Flash Fearless,
David McCallum,
Kas Product,
Junior Murvin,
Inner City,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Aaron Thompson,
John Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Babytalk,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
F. McDonald,
Goldenarms,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Cale,
Erasure,
Groovy Waters,
The Raincoats,
Mandrill,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joensuu 1685,
Darondo,
The Standells,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultimate Spinach,
Das Ding,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Angry Samoans,
Pole,
Frankie Knuckles,
Nils Olav,
Desert Stars,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.