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 Kiribati and from Bremen.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Martian to the disco 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 Technova. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Simply Red,
Sun City Girls,
Arab on Radar,
The J.B.'s,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang of Four,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Detroit Cobras,
FM Einheit,
Hardrive,
Stiv Bators,
John Foxx,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Doobie Brothers,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pole,
The Real Kids,
Main Source,
The Blackbyrds,
Gabor Szabo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Kool Moe Dee,
Robert Görl,
Barry Ungar,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Count Five,
Icehouse,
Toni Rubio,
Alphaville,
Sandy B,
Eddi Front,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Gang Green,
Spandau Ballet,
It's A Beautiful Day,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Bobby Sherman,
Neu!,
Lindisfarne,
John Cale,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tomorrow,
Man Parrish,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Slackers,
Ossler,
Barrington Levy,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mo-Dettes,
Joyce Sims,
Soul Sonic Force,
Pierre Henry,
Spoonie Gee,
the Association,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Porter Ricks,
Ultimate Spinach,
Fela Kuti,
Crooked Eye,
Newcleus,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Section 25,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.