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 Serbia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All Visage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Blues Magoos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Whodini,
Arab on Radar,
The Zeros,
Steve Hackett,
Scott Walker,
Aaron Thompson,
Leonard Cohen,
Banda Bassotti,
Ten City,
Robert Wyatt,
Al Stewart,
Marc Almond,
Kurtis Blow,
Lyres,
Das Ding,
Andrew Hill,
Siglo XX,
Mars,
Quadrant,
The Gories,
Buzzcocks,
The Mojo Men,
ABC,
The Searchers,
The American Breed,
This Heat,
The Fire Engines,
Suburban Knight,
Clear Light,
The Evens,
The Selecter,
Gichy Dan,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Darondo,
Motorama,
The Walker Brothers,
Slick Rick,
Accadde A,
Carl Craig,
Hot Snakes,
Black Moon,
Amazonics,
Shoche,
Fatback Band,
Goldenarms,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Hashim,
Johnny Osbourne,
Girls At Our Best!,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
R.M.O.,
DJ Sneak,
Minnie Riperton,
Wolf Eyes,
James White and The Blacks,
Mad Mike,
Model 500,
Duran Duran,
Minutemen,
Man Parrish,
Ronnie Foster,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.