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 New Zealand and from Copenhagen.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare 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 Erasure to the funk 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 Joe Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Colin Newman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MC5,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Busters,
The Fortunes,
Scratch Acid,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Offenders,
Motorama,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Moby Grape,
Johnny Osbourne,
Robert Hood,
Suicide,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Interpol,
China Crisis,
The Gap Band,
F. McDonald,
Desert Stars,
Hot Snakes,
Soul II Soul,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Graham Central Station,
The Searchers,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sound Behaviour,
H. Thieme,
10cc,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kaleidoscope,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Arthur Verocai,
Jawbox,
Blossom Toes,
Visage,
Tubeway Army,
Tomorrow,
Aural Exciters,
The Monks,
Crash Course in Science,
Isaac Hayes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Mad Mike,
Oblivians,
Boz Scaggs,
48th St. Collective,
Terry Callier,
Y Pants,
Wire,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Quantec,
Barrington Levy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Chrome,
Make Up,
The Electric Prunes,
Joyce Sims,
The Gun Club,
Sister Nancy,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.