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 Cuba and from Stockholm.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 punk 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 Junior Murvin. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Flamin' Groovies record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 linndrum and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Scratch Acid,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Durutti Column,
Black Sheep,
Robert Hood,
Can,
Scott Walker,
Roxette,
The Neon Judgement,
Scientists,
Wolf Eyes,
Hoover,
Pylon,
Panda Bear,
DNA,
Skaos,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The American Breed,
Cal Tjader,
Kerrie Biddell,
the Bar-Kays,
Dennis Brown,
New York Dolls,
Camberwell Now,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Kaleidoscope,
Vladislav Delay,
Television,
Nils Olav,
Howard Jones,
Joe Smooth,
The Invisible,
Severed Heads,
Marine Girls,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Black Dice,
Aloha Tigers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
David Axelrod,
Radiohead,
Aaron Thompson,
Public Enemy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang of Four,
Franke,
the Germs,
Donny Hathaway,
Chrome,
Eddi Front,
June of 44,
Fatback Band,
UT,
H. Thieme,
The Velvet Underground,
Liliput,
The Blackbyrds,
Magazine,
Skarface,
Buzzcocks,
The Cowsills,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.