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 Bahamas and from Lyon.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Eric Dolphy to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Wolf Eyes 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 punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a A Flock of Seagulls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fort Wilson Riot,
Roxette,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
New Age Steppers,
The American Breed,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Count Five,
Rosa Yemen,
Mandrill,
Whodini,
June Days,
Schoolly D,
Section 25,
Bootsy Collins,
Desert Stars,
R.M.O.,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Flipper,
The Last Poets,
Newcleus,
B.T. Express,
Vainqueur,
Freddie Wadling,
The Beau Brummels,
Circle Jerks,
Joy Division,
Infiniti,
The New Christs,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bang On A Can,
Suburban Knight,
Cheater Slicks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Joyce Sims,
Blossom Toes,
Ultra Naté,
Stetsasonic,
The Happenings,
Angry Samoans,
Chris & Cosey,
Pussy Galore,
Letta Mbulu,
Arab on Radar,
The Doobie Brothers,
Gabor Szabo,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kurtis Blow,
Minnie Riperton,
Nico,
Boogie Down Productions,
Von Mondo,
Technova,
Eric Copeland,
Pharoah Sanders,
Skaos,
Roxy Music,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Magazine,
Dennis Brown,
Tom Boy,
The Music Machine,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.