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 Kazakhstan and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mandrill to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Blossom Toes. All the underground hits.
All Gang Gang Dance tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yusef Lateef,
T. Rex,
Stiv Bators,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fear,
The Toasters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Raincoats,
The Fire Engines,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
PIL,
Gil Scott Heron,
Boz Scaggs,
Make Up,
Radiohead,
Television Personalities,
Icehouse,
The Grass Roots,
Robert Görl,
The Pretty Things,
Jandek,
Joensuu 1685,
Grandmaster Flash,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Girls At Our Best!,
David McCallum,
Gang Gang Dance,
New Order,
Howard Jones,
Radiopuhelimet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Porter Ricks,
Mr. Review,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Monolake,
The Moody Blues,
Dorothy Ashby,
Godley & Creme,
Sarah Menescal,
Piero Umiliani,
Loose Ends,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Arab on Radar,
The Misunderstood,
Pylon,
The Move,
Yaz,
The Last Poets,
Slick Rick,
Dawn Penn,
the Germs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Warsaw,
Nik Kershaw,
Marmalade,
Accadde A,
Livin' Joy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pole,
Ken Boothe,
The Busters,
Vainqueur,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.