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 Malta and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba 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 Jeff Lynne to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Magazine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
The Associates,
Interpol,
Organ,
Leonard Cohen,
Qualms,
The Invisible,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jimmy McGriff,
Minny Pops,
June of 44,
The Fire Engines,
Stetsasonic,
Warren Ellis,
Agitation Free,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Sound,
Alton Ellis,
Roxy Music,
The Flesh Eaters,
Subhumans,
Jeff Lynne,
Idris Muhammad,
Index,
Suburban Knight,
Kaleidoscope,
Los Fastidios,
Tres Demented,
Dawn Penn,
ABC,
Adolescents,
Throbbing Gristle,
Eden Ahbez,
ABBA,
T. Rex,
EPMD,
E-Dancer,
Television,
Newcleus,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Khruangbin,
Liliput,
Ice-T,
Jacob Miller,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Colin Newman,
the Human League,
Scientists,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Supertramp,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Oblivians,
Harpers Bizarre,
Average White Band,
Procol Harum,
a-ha,
Boz Scaggs,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gang of Four,
The Offenders,
Pharoah Sanders,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.