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 Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Manchester.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Sonics to the punk 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 Jeff Lynne. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Television Personalities record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Angry Samoans,
Inner City,
Alton Ellis,
Electric Prunes,
Country Teasers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Parry Music,
the Soft Cell,
Arab on Radar,
Swans,
Loose Ends,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Remains,
The Count Five,
The Moleskins,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Procol Harum,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sixth Finger,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Slits,
Andrew Hill,
Sam Rivers,
Chris & Cosey,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Jandek,
Subhumans,
Amon Düül,
Mandrill,
Altered Images,
Liliput,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lightning Bolt,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Hot Snakes,
The Barracudas,
Al Stewart,
The Busters,
Johnny Osbourne,
Terry Callier,
Steve Hackett,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Fall,
Animal Collective,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Television Personalities,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Black Sheep,
Blossom Toes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pierre Henry,
The Music Machine,
John Foxx,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.