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 Qatar and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Mary Jane Girls to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Alarm Clocks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Average White Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet 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?
H. Thieme,
Byron Stingily,
The New Christs,
Lucky Dragons,
Chrome,
T. Rex,
The Associates,
Agent Orange,
The Last Poets,
Malaria!,
Minny Pops,
Pharoah Sanders,
Procol Harum,
New Age Steppers,
Dawn Penn,
The Cure,
Kool Moe Dee,
World's Most,
Scrapy,
Cybotron,
The Mummies,
The Move,
Delta 5,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Public Image Ltd.,
Negative Approach,
Patti Smith,
Toni Rubio,
Skaos,
Soul Sonic Force,
Newcleus,
DJ Sneak,
Kas Product,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sex Pistols,
Little Man,
Marvin Gaye,
Soft Machine,
X-Ray Spex,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Stooges,
Spandau Ballet,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Man Parrish,
Tomorrow,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Leaves,
Mission of Burma,
The Vogues,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fall,
Joensuu 1685,
Ultravox,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mad Mike,
Kurtis Blow,
KRS-One,
Jerry's Kids,
Arab on Radar,
The Flesh Eaters,
Soul II Soul,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.