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 Turkmenistan and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Sällskapet to the rock kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Buzzcocks,
Livin' Joy,
Roger Hodgson,
Nas,
Cluster,
Black Pus,
Leonard Cohen,
The Evens,
Hoover,
The Techniques,
Soft Cell,
Suburban Knight,
Fear,
Black Moon,
Tears for Fears,
Tim Buckley,
Ornette Coleman,
The Gories,
Idris Muhammad,
Terrestrial Tones,
Liliput,
The Barracudas,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ultravox,
Soft Machine,
Con Funk Shun,
Lou Reed,
Andrew Hill,
K-Klass,
Urselle,
This Heat,
Deepchord,
James White and The Blacks,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Shuggie Otis,
Marmalade,
The Cowsills,
Minor Threat,
Fad Gadget,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Warren Ellis,
Das Ding,
Spoonie Gee,
Junior Murvin,
Royal Trux,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Al Stewart,
Boz Scaggs,
Letta Mbulu,
Icehouse,
Fatback Band,
Cameo,
The Victims,
The Birthday Party,
Niagra,
Skaos,
Ten City,
Blossom Toes,
Siglo XX,
Arthur Verocai,
Franke,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Motions,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.