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 Vietnam and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the organ 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 Al Stewart to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liaisons Dangereuses 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yusef Lateef,
Dead Boys,
Kas Product,
Y Pants,
The Monks,
Fad Gadget,
Man Parrish,
Dawn Penn,
Little Man,
Jeff Lynne,
Section 25,
Masters at Work,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Soft Cell,
Joey Negro,
Amon Düül II,
Moby Grape,
Lou Christie,
The Detroit Cobras,
Barry Ungar,
Susan Cadogan,
Sandy B,
Dorothy Ashby,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scan 7,
John Holt,
Morten Harket,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bill Wells,
The Offenders,
Ohio Players,
The Red Krayola,
Aaron Thompson,
Bobby Byrd,
Crash Course in Science,
Tim Buckley,
Rakim,
Pantytec,
Deadbeat,
The Standells,
Ornette Coleman,
Hoover,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Janne Schatter,
Kenny Larkin,
Boredoms,
Mars,
Motorama,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Barracudas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Talk Talk,
Eric Copeland,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Mad Mike,
Yellowson,
F. McDonald,
Crooked Eye,
The Smoke,
Sam Rivers,
Tears for Fears,
Visage,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.