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 Belarus and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Wings to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Lou Reed & Metallica. All the underground hits.
All Monolake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots 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?
Peter & Gordon,
Barrington Levy,
Hardrive,
Gichy Dan,
Mr. Review,
The Electric Prunes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Freddie Wadling,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Saccharine Trust,
Matthew Bourne,
Deepchord,
Panda Bear,
Susan Cadogan,
The Happenings,
The Five Americans,
Moss Icon,
Outsiders,
Jerry's Kids,
Severed Heads,
Black Sheep,
Make Up,
David Axelrod,
Malaria!,
The Real Kids,
Black Bananas,
Eric Copeland,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Buzzcocks,
Sparks,
Eurythmics,
Blancmange,
Slick Rick,
Eden Ahbez,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Blake Baxter,
The Angels of Light,
Crime,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Maleditus Sound,
Gerry Rafferty,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
La Düsseldorf,
L. Decosne,
Iggy Pop,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Remains,
Second Layer,
K-Klass,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Funky Four + One,
Rod Modell,
Tubeway Army,
Livin' Joy,
Aaron Thompson,
Visage,
a-ha,
Newcleus,
Lucky Dragons,
Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux, Royal Trux.
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.