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 Mozambique and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the guitar 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 Young Marble Giants to the dance 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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Howard Jones 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 synthesizer and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a World's Most record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Searchers,
The Litter,
Alison Limerick,
Spandau Ballet,
Bobby Sherman,
Au Pairs,
X-Ray Spex,
Popol Vuh,
Marc Almond,
The Detroit Cobras,
Arcadia,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ralphi Rosario,
Underground Resistance,
Second Layer,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Loose Ends,
Eric Copeland,
Freddie Wadling,
Aswad,
Eli Mardock,
Chrome,
Brothers Johnson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
New Age Steppers,
Sällskapet,
Bob Dylan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Joe Finger,
CMW,
Susan Cadogan,
Sly & The Family Stone,
MC5,
Joyce Sims,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Invisible,
D'Angelo,
Erykah Badu,
Yazoo,
Rakim,
Sun City Girls,
Tears for Fears,
Black Sheep,
Depeche Mode,
Matthew Halsall,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Nick Fraelich,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bobby Womack,
Television,
The Seeds,
Neil Young,
Main Source,
MDC,
Pantaleimon,
The Dead C,
DJ Sneak,
Alton Ellis,
Yellowson,
Joy Division,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.