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 Vietnam and from Columbus.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Hot Snakes 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
The Gladiators,
Minnie Riperton,
Stereo Dub,
Peter & Gordon,
Camberwell Now,
John Holt,
Wasted Youth,
The Real Kids,
Buzzcocks,
The Associates,
Boredoms,
ABC,
Alison Limerick,
The Techniques,
Bauhaus,
Gichy Dan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Morten Harket,
Derrick May,
Au Pairs,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joey Negro,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Junior Murvin,
Zapp,
Scrapy,
Hot Snakes,
World's Most,
Eve St. Jones,
The United States of America,
Kayak,
Tubeway Army,
Yazoo,
Radiopuhelimet,
Josef K,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Traffic Nightmare,
Television,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The J.B.'s,
Surgeon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Wolf Eyes,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Moody Blues,
Massinfluence,
Marshall Jefferson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rakim,
Can,
Gang of Four,
The Pop Group,
Bad Manners,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
X-102,
A Certain Ratio,
Joe Smooth,
June of 44,
Ultimate Spinach,
Toni Rubio,
Nirvana,
Prince Buster,
Magazine, Magazine, Magazine, Magazine.
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.