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 East Timor 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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and New York.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar 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 La Düsseldorf to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All The Flesh Eaters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stereo Dub 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tears for Fears,
Black Pus,
Brothers Johnson,
Mad Mike,
Harpers Bizarre,
Motorama,
Buzzcocks,
The Remains,
Ultravox,
The American Breed,
Joe Finger,
Lucky Dragons,
Barrington Levy,
the Germs,
Neu!,
Rakim,
Flamin' Groovies,
Funky Four + One,
Joey Negro,
Black Sheep,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Pretty Things,
Technova,
The Litter,
Flipper,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mo-Dettes,
Surgeon,
The Monks,
Whodini,
The Saints,
Lungfish,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Soft Cell,
Alison Limerick,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Real Kids,
Todd Terry,
Vladislav Delay,
Pere Ubu,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ohio Players,
F. McDonald,
Slick Rick,
Wings,
John Lydon,
Deadbeat,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Trojans,
Morten Harket,
Sight & Sound,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Interpol,
Bobby Byrd,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sparks,
The Martian,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.