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 Guinea and from Manchester.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Brass Construction to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tubeway Army record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Can,
The Human League,
Malaria!,
Rotary Connection,
The Searchers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The American Breed,
the Sonics,
Todd Rundgren,
Pere Ubu,
In Retrospect,
Connie Case,
Excepter,
Danielle Patucci,
Kurtis Blow,
Average White Band,
Dave Gahan,
The Monochrome Set,
The Flesh Eaters,
Radio Birdman,
DJ Style,
Scientists,
The Pop Group,
CMW,
Gichy Dan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Alice Coltrane,
Interpol,
Flamin' Groovies,
F. McDonald,
Boz Scaggs,
Parry Music,
Ultra Naté,
Colin Newman,
Bill Wells,
The Modern Lovers,
DNA,
Chris Corsano,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Fire Engines,
Bobby Womack,
Bad Manners,
R.M.O.,
Terry Callier,
Technova,
The Moody Blues,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tears for Fears,
Dual Sessions,
Eric B and Rakim,
Porter Ricks,
Lalann,
Ten City,
Jeff Lynne,
Aural Exciters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Birthday Party,
Grauzone,
Joe Smooth,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.