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 Hong Kong.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Visage to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Saints. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
Stockholm Monsters,
The New Christs,
Cluster,
Kerri Chandler,
The Wake,
Faraquet,
Hot Snakes,
the Soft Cell,
Sandy B,
Vainqueur,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Parry Music,
Angry Samoans,
Deepchord,
Kayak,
Grandmaster Flash,
Royal Trux,
Roxette,
Ituana,
The Offenders,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
48th St. Collective,
Gang Gang Dance,
Bad Manners,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Piero Umiliani,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Howard Jones,
Malaria!,
Roger Hodgson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Dirtbombs,
The Real Kids,
Pulsallama,
Max Romeo,
Intrusion,
Los Fastidios,
Yaz,
Hoover,
Blossom Toes,
Maurizio,
The Saints,
Roxy Music,
Brothers Johnson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Shoche,
Cal Tjader,
Trumans Water,
Byron Stingily,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Fatback Band,
Procol Harum,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Cure,
Gong,
The Happenings,
Mark Hollis,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.