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 Switzerland and from London.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The United States of America to the dance 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Womack record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare 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?
The American Breed,
Das Ding,
Monks,
Erasure,
Rekid,
Jacob Miller,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sister Nancy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Buckinghams,
Peter and Kerry,
The Index,
B.T. Express,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Dave Clark Five,
MC5,
Juan Atkins,
Animal Collective,
Mark Hollis,
Sun Ra,
Alison Limerick,
Delta 5,
The Skatalites,
DJ Sneak,
Thompson Twins,
Jerry's Kids,
The Wake,
The Human League,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Grey Daturas,
Guru Guru,
Tim Buckley,
Amon Düül,
Infiniti,
Niagra,
Spandau Ballet,
Kaleidoscope,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Association,
The Fortunes,
the Soft Cell,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Real Kids,
Steve Hackett,
The Durutti Column,
Eddi Front,
Minor Threat,
Johnny Osbourne,
Cameo,
Pere Ubu,
Excepter,
Unrelated Segments,
Bauhaus,
Marshall Jefferson,
Saccharine Trust,
The J.B.'s,
Marmalade,
48th St. Collective,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.