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 Bahrain and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Henry Cow to the disco 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 Crash Course in Science. All the underground hits.
All Negative Approach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pussy Galore,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bauhaus,
Dead Boys,
Dorothy Ashby,
Howard Jones,
The Tremeloes,
New Order,
Pylon,
Crooked Eye,
Boz Scaggs,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Tim Buckley,
Derrick Morgan,
Barclay James Harvest,
Interpol,
Sonny Sharrock,
David McCallum,
Scratch Acid,
The New Christs,
Supertramp,
Eden Ahbez,
Slick Rick,
Radiohead,
Amon Düül,
The Busters,
Tears for Fears,
New York Dolls,
The Raincoats,
Lou Christie,
Pet Shop Boys,
Freddie Wadling,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Terry Callier,
Stetsasonic,
Yazoo,
John Holt,
T. Rex,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Desert Stars,
Cluster,
Sex Pistols,
Roxy Music,
The Angels of Light,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
New Age Steppers,
Bill Wells,
Bang On A Can,
the Normal,
Lalo Schifrin,
Underground Resistance,
Visage,
Glambeats Corp.,
Tommy Roe,
Judy Mowatt,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.