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 Equatorial Guinea and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 synthesizer 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 Reagan Youth to the rock 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 Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 10cc record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Johnny Osbourne,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Liliput,
The Moody Blues,
Robert Wyatt,
Severed Heads,
The Divine Comedy,
Essential Logic,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Tears for Fears,
The Moleskins,
Bluetip,
Pulsallama,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sandy B,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Tim Buckley,
Saccharine Trust,
Bobby Womack,
Oneida,
the Soft Cell,
Organ,
Godley & Creme,
The Move,
Main Source,
Delta 5,
Rekid,
Duran Duran,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Don Cherry,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Velvet Underground,
Ten City,
E-Dancer,
Babytalk,
Lou Christie,
Trumans Water,
Lower 48,
Cecil Taylor,
The Techniques,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ornette Coleman,
Magazine,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Cal Tjader,
Monks,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dawn Penn,
Robert Hood,
Minor Threat,
The Dead C,
Ken Boothe,
Tres Demented,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Whodini,
La Düsseldorf,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bad Manners,
Glenn Branca,
The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros, The Zeros.
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.