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 Gambia and from Seoul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the funk 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 Fear. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lightning Bolt,
Eli Mardock,
David Axelrod,
Alice Coltrane,
The Blackbyrds,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rosa Yemen,
Symarip,
Pere Ubu,
Television,
X-Ray Spex,
The Blues Magoos,
Warren Ellis,
Mary Jane Girls,
R.M.O.,
Rod Modell,
Moby Grape,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sandy B,
Amazonics,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Howard Jones,
Sister Nancy,
Motorama,
Black Moon,
Electric Prunes,
Joyce Sims,
FM Einheit,
Soulsonic Force,
The Five Americans,
These Immortal Souls,
Archie Shepp,
Pierre Henry,
Loose Ends,
The Remains,
Judy Mowatt,
The Alarm Clocks,
Deakin,
Scott Walker,
ABC,
Joe Smooth,
a-ha,
Erasure,
AZ,
Adolescents,
Althea and Donna,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gang Gang Dance,
This Heat,
Skriet,
Pussy Galore,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lungfish,
Bauhaus,
The Offenders,
Thompson Twins,
Neil Young,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.