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 Lebanon and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Circle Jerks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tommy Roe,
The Move,
Mantronix,
Ultravox,
The Dave Clark Five,
Whodini,
The Black Dice,
Mary Jane Girls,
Grey Daturas,
Trumans Water,
Sound Behaviour,
Harmonia,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Associates,
The Wake,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Black Moon,
Byron Stingily,
DJ Sneak,
Schoolly D,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
X-Ray Spex,
Lucky Dragons,
Yellowson,
Delon & Dalcan,
Adolescents,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Lightning Bolt,
The Pretty Things,
Cecil Taylor,
Rites of Spring,
Joyce Sims,
Marc Almond,
Johnny Clarke,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Dead C,
The Monks,
Lyres,
CMW,
The Moody Blues,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mr. Review,
Lower 48,
ABBA,
Country Joe & The Fish,
AZ,
Reuben Wilson,
Althea and Donna,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Little Man,
Symarip,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Alison Limerick,
Fat Boys,
Drexciya,
Los Fastidios,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Sound,
World's Most,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Can,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.