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 Jordan and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 June of 44 to the disco 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 These Immortal Souls. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pet Shop Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Trojans,
Wasted Youth,
Y Pants,
Symarip,
Mars,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Golliwogs,
The Buckinghams,
The Blackbyrds,
The Leaves,
The Shadows of Knight,
Oneida,
Brass Construction,
June of 44,
Gong,
Aural Exciters,
The Busters,
Tomorrow,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers,
Marvin Gaye,
48th St. Collective,
Scratch Acid,
Nils Olav,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Derrick Morgan,
DJ Sneak,
Pantaleimon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Zero Boys,
Joensuu 1685,
Terry Callier,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Piero Umiliani,
Crooked Eye,
Lakeside,
The Slackers,
The Kinks,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Thee Headcoats,
Gang Gang Dance,
Todd Terry,
Derrick May,
Althea and Donna,
Warren Ellis,
Liliput,
Black Moon,
Urselle,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
DNA,
Maleditus Sound,
the Fania All-Stars,
X-102,
Kenny Larkin,
Glenn Branca,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.