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 Kazakhstan and from Taipei.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lalo Schifrin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MDC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Boredoms,
Eurythmics,
the Slits,
Eve St. Jones,
The Divine Comedy,
Sex Pistols,
Bronski Beat,
Mo-Dettes,
Fugazi,
Leonard Cohen,
Tres Demented,
Piero Umiliani,
Slick Rick,
Scan 7,
Grauzone,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Hoover,
The Blackbyrds,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Walker Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
Jeff Lynne,
Graham Central Station,
Pere Ubu,
Sam Rivers,
Barbara Tucker,
The New Christs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Laurel Aitken,
The Modern Lovers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
UT,
Public Image Ltd.,
Terry Callier,
The Pretty Things,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Blossom Toes,
Steve Hackett,
FM Einheit,
Letta Mbulu,
Harry Pussy,
Fad Gadget,
cv313,
Sight & Sound,
The Remains,
Grandmaster Flash,
Rapeman,
Bobby Byrd,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Quando Quango,
June Days,
Darondo,
Rosa Yemen,
48th St. Collective,
Ultra Naté,
Wings,
This Heat,
Tomorrow,
The Saints,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.