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 Mozambique and from Manchester.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Joyce Sims to the jazz 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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Agent Orange,
Dawn Penn,
Moby Grape,
The Moody Blues,
Infiniti,
The Invisible,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bad Manners,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Boredoms,
Gang Gang Dance,
JFA,
Aswad,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Maurizio,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Althea and Donna,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Tom Boy,
Cheater Slicks,
Angry Samoans,
Davy DMX,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Robert Görl,
Roxette,
Adolescents,
Boz Scaggs,
Terry Callier,
Steve Hackett,
Television Personalities,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wasted Youth,
Make Up,
Aaron Thompson,
The Last Poets,
The Toasters,
Kayak,
Hoover,
Dual Sessions,
June of 44,
The Five Americans,
The Skatalites,
Fluxion,
Donald Byrd,
Reagan Youth,
Lungfish,
Crime,
Rapeman,
Sparks,
Echospace,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Black Bananas,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Shuggie Otis,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.