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 Albania and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Searchers to the disco kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All The Last Poets tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New York Dolls,
Sparks,
Hoover,
Motorama,
Livin' Joy,
Icehouse,
Ten City,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Jerry's Kids,
Masters at Work,
Second Layer,
Dawn Penn,
Slave,
L. Decosne,
The Grass Roots,
Hasil Adkins,
The Human League,
John Foxx,
Anakelly,
The Buckinghams,
Lou Reed,
Bill Wells,
Scratch Acid,
Sun Ra,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Bananas,
Althea and Donna,
Symarip,
Con Funk Shun,
Fugazi,
The Move,
Mission of Burma,
Outsiders,
Quadrant,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Schoolly D,
Khruangbin,
Aaron Thompson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Radiopuhelimet,
EPMD,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Leonard Cohen,
John Cale,
Agent Orange,
Mars,
Reuben Wilson,
Vainqueur,
Average White Band,
Supertramp,
Ronan,
The Mummies,
Joyce Sims,
The J.B.'s,
MDC,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bronski Beat,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Birthday Party,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marcia Griffiths,
Todd Rundgren,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.