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 Oman and from Paris.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 The Tremeloes to the rap 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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Tomorrow,
Soul II Soul,
Ponytail,
Mo-Dettes,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Simply Red,
Half Japanese,
Nik Kershaw,
Infiniti,
MC5,
The Tremeloes,
Zero Boys,
Barbara Tucker,
Dawn Penn,
Laurel Aitken,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Theoretical Girls,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lucky Dragons,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Excepter,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Tommy Roe,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Slits,
Kurtis Blow,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Mojo Men,
Q and Not U,
Tim Buckley,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pussy Galore,
Gil Scott Heron,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Marcia Griffiths,
Cymande,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Bootsy Collins,
Albert Ayler,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kerri Chandler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Average White Band,
Letta Mbulu,
Unwound,
James White and The Blacks,
Agent Orange,
Leonard Cohen,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Visage,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
OOIOO,
Sun City Girls,
Interpol,
Scan 7,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana, Nirvana.
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.