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 Australia and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Terrestrial Tones to the disco 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Depeche Mode tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
L. Decosne,
The Alarm Clocks,
Byron Stingily,
The Offenders,
Donny Hathaway,
Alison Limerick,
Average White Band,
Bobby Byrd,
E-Dancer,
Marmalade,
Blake Baxter,
Young Marble Giants,
Groovy Waters,
Harmonia,
Youth Brigade,
The J.B.'s,
David Axelrod,
Laurel Aitken,
Barbara Tucker,
Altered Images,
Flamin' Groovies,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Anakelly,
Connie Case,
Joyce Sims,
The Doors,
June of 44,
Trumans Water,
Kenny Larkin,
The New Christs,
Whodini,
the Germs,
Scan 7,
Bill Wells,
Todd Rundgren,
Fat Boys,
Ten City,
Dawn Penn,
kango's stein massive,
Junior Murvin,
Ronan,
Arthur Verocai,
Minny Pops,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Grass Roots,
Basic Channel,
The Invisible,
The Leaves,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Kinks,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
Pantaleimon,
Nik Kershaw,
The Slackers,
KRS-One,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Q and Not U,
The Residents,
Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord, Deepchord.
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.