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 Togo and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Wasted Youth to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Ultravox. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Foxx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Mummies,
Ultra Naté,
Glenn Branca,
the Swans,
Sexual Harrassment,
Don Cherry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Cymande,
Bush Tetras,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Cheater Slicks,
E-Dancer,
Inner City,
Whodini,
Aswad,
Lalo Schifrin,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Guru Guru,
The Birthday Party,
The New Christs,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Dawn Penn,
In Retrospect,
Panda Bear,
The Count Five,
Von Mondo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mandrill,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Toasters,
Tom Boy,
Clear Light,
Ten City,
Shoche,
Livin' Joy,
Juan Atkins,
Pagans,
Matthew Halsall,
Schoolly D,
Kerri Chandler,
Nico,
Roger Hodgson,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Index,
Judy Mowatt,
The Selecter,
Drexciya,
Depeche Mode,
The Last Poets,
The Moody Blues,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Model 500,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Saints,
Barrington Levy,
Reagan Youth,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Star Department,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.