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 Guatemala and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sugar Minott to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rakim 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stereo Dub record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Graham Central Station,
The Remains,
Blake Baxter,
Rod Modell,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bad Manners,
Kurtis Blow,
The Leaves,
Pole,
Joyce Sims,
Slick Rick,
F. McDonald,
The Litter,
David McCallum,
Cluster,
Black Sheep,
The Durutti Column,
Grauzone,
Chris Corsano,
The Monks,
Fatback Band,
The Moody Blues,
Drive Like Jehu,
Faraquet,
Sugar Minott,
Underground Resistance,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Funkadelic,
The Zeros,
Roxette,
the Human League,
KRS-One,
Sonic Youth,
Hoover,
Black Bananas,
Television Personalities,
Ludus,
The Kinks,
Wally Richardson,
Flamin' Groovies,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skaos,
The Vogues,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kenny Larkin,
Blossom Toes,
The Misunderstood,
Alton Ellis,
Zapp,
The Victims,
Barrington Levy,
Minny Pops,
Subhumans,
Qualms,
Morten Harket,
10cc,
Easy Going,
Kerri Chandler,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Panda Bear,
Minutemen,
Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet, Spandau Ballet.
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.