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 Ukraine and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the guitar 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 The Barracudas to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Basic Channel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
The Evens,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
U.S. Maple,
Ten City,
June Days,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The J.B.'s,
Wally Richardson,
Darondo,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Sherman,
The Velvet Underground,
DNA,
Crooked Eye,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Ultra Naté,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Tommy Roe,
The Human League,
Black Flag,
the Fania All-Stars,
Prince Buster,
Funky Four + One,
Lakeside,
The Electric Prunes,
Yellowson,
Half Japanese,
Essential Logic,
Scratch Acid,
Rufus Thomas,
New York Dolls,
Aloha Tigers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Mark Hollis,
China Crisis,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Depeche Mode,
Nas,
Nick Fraelich,
Spoonie Gee,
Lindisfarne,
David McCallum,
Iggy Pop,
The Fire Engines,
Quantec,
Skriet,
Icehouse,
The Mummies,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Marc Almond,
The Doors,
Warsaw,
Al Stewart,
Hoover,
Avey Tare,
The Move,
The Gun Club,
Grey Daturas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Dual Sessions,
Mr. Review,
Suicide, Suicide, Suicide, Suicide.
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.