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 Sri Lanka 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sixth Finger to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Suburban Knight. All the underground hits.
All The Saints tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bluetip 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gichy Dan,
The Five Americans,
The Litter,
Guru Guru,
The Happenings,
Swell Maps,
B.T. Express,
Moebius,
David Bowie,
Quantec,
Maurizio,
Fluxion,
The Index,
Donald Byrd,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Nik Kershaw,
Roxette,
The Buckinghams,
Porter Ricks,
Erasure,
Avey Tare,
Pantaleimon,
Joe Finger,
Terrestrial Tones,
Qualms,
June Days,
The Offenders,
China Crisis,
H. Thieme,
Ohio Players,
The Last Poets,
Average White Band,
Sparks,
The J.B.'s,
Heaven 17,
The Fugs,
PIL,
The Moody Blues,
L. Decosne,
Scion,
UT,
Bad Manners,
June of 44,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joensuu 1685,
The Durutti Column,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Index,
Eurythmics,
The Music Machine,
Idris Muhammad,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fela Kuti,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Whodini,
Organ,
Tears for Fears,
Marmalade,
Boz Scaggs,
The Moleskins,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix, Mantronix.
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.