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 Maldives and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the oboe 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the disco kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Accadde A. All the underground hits.
All K-Klass tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Morten Harket record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Rod Modell,
Rapeman,
T. Rex,
The Tremeloes,
Frankie Knuckles,
Youth Brigade,
The Five Americans,
DJ Sneak,
Chrome,
The Real Kids,
Theoretical Girls,
The Gories,
Black Sheep,
Juan Atkins,
The Gladiators,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Unrelated Segments,
The Neon Judgement,
The Mummies,
DNA,
Subhumans,
Circle Jerks,
Goldenarms,
Aloha Tigers,
Johnny Clarke,
Deadbeat,
Urselle,
The Blackbyrds,
Lalann,
The Blues Magoos,
John Cale,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tom Boy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Connie Case,
Pole,
This Heat,
Parry Music,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Moleskins,
Andrew Hill,
Marvin Gaye,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cowsills,
The Searchers,
Freddie Wadling,
The Angels of Light,
Black Pus,
Dark Day,
Visage,
Faraquet,
Lower 48,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wally Richardson,
Kaleidoscope,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Ice-T,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.