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 Djibouti and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe 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 cv313 to the grunge 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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kings Of Tomorrow record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Parry Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
H. Thieme,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Electric Prunes,
Q65,
Technova,
the Human League,
Josef K,
The Doors,
DNA,
Aswad,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sparks,
Gong,
Terry Callier,
Rufus Thomas,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Dead C,
Cameo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The American Breed,
Freddie Wadling,
Public Image Ltd.,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Icehouse,
Simply Red,
Minnie Riperton,
the Fania All-Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
Fear,
The Standells,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bill Near,
Das Ding,
Porter Ricks,
Black Sheep,
The Happenings,
Moby Grape,
Gabor Szabo,
Model 500,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
X-102,
The Real Kids,
Index,
Supertramp,
Kayak,
Heaven 17,
Skriet,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Man Parrish,
Yazoo,
The Monochrome Set,
Shuggie Otis,
Johnny Osbourne,
Scion,
Lindisfarne,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eli Mardock,
Funky Four + One,
Radiohead,
Marine Girls,
Davy DMX,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.