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 Oman and from London.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Gong to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every EPMD 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-101,
Soul II Soul,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Eden Ahbez,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fear,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Shuggie Otis,
Desert Stars,
Delon & Dalcan,
Bauhaus,
the Slits,
Blossom Toes,
Wally Richardson,
Michelle Simonal,
Todd Rundgren,
Davy DMX,
The Golliwogs,
John Coltrane,
The Black Dice,
Gang Starr,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mark Hollis,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
DNA,
Aloha Tigers,
Mars,
Patti Smith,
The Red Krayola,
Pantytec,
Ken Boothe,
Theoretical Girls,
June Days,
Roxy Music,
Black Moon,
The Last Poets,
Barrington Levy,
Harpers Bizarre,
AZ,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Fuzztones,
Marc Almond,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Masters at Work,
The Associates,
Morten Harket,
The Five Americans,
Flash Fearless,
Prince Buster,
The Shadows of Knight,
Con Funk Shun,
Pylon,
Harry Pussy,
Kayak,
Guru Guru,
UT,
The Slackers,
Tubeway Army,
Joe Smooth,
Suburban Knight,
Jeff Mills,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.