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 Peru and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Tears for Fears to the dance 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 Subhumans. All the underground hits.
All Boogie Down Productions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Larry & the Blue Notes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Loose Ends record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
PIL,
Danielle Patucci,
Adolescents,
Blake Baxter,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Zapp,
Moby Grape,
Saccharine Trust,
Gang Gang Dance,
Animal Collective,
The Young Rascals,
Janne Schatter,
Donny Hathaway,
the Normal,
The Beau Brummels,
The Five Americans,
Organ,
The Smoke,
Trumans Water,
Suburban Knight,
Cymande,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Letta Mbulu,
Don Cherry,
John Coltrane,
Glambeats Corp.,
Magazine,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The J.B.'s,
Graham Central Station,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Circle Jerks,
Derrick Morgan,
Joey Negro,
The Red Krayola,
John Lydon,
Ornette Coleman,
Crispian St. Peters,
Thompson Twins,
the Human League,
David McCallum,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Raincoats,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Steve Hackett,
Junior Murvin,
The Star Department,
Scientists,
Deakin,
Lindisfarne,
Interpol,
a-ha,
The Flesh Eaters,
Can,
Average White Band,
Brass Construction,
Sandy B,
James Chance & The Contortions,
One Last Wish,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.