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 Malaysia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 X-Ray Spex to the crunk 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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Amon Düül,
Lucky Dragons,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kas Product,
The Names,
Howard Jones,
Reagan Youth,
Liliput,
Amon Düül II,
Thee Headcoats,
Nick Fraelich,
Pierre Henry,
Goldenarms,
The Happenings,
Skaos,
Drexciya,
Panda Bear,
Magazine,
Rekid,
Joe Smooth,
Average White Band,
Matthew Halsall,
CMW,
Minutemen,
The United States of America,
Gerry Rafferty,
Derrick Morgan,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ornette Coleman,
The Toasters,
Blake Baxter,
Chris Corsano,
Buzzcocks,
The American Breed,
Jeru the Damaja,
B.T. Express,
Sound Behaviour,
Nico,
Qualms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Peter and Kerry,
Grandmaster Flash,
Deadbeat,
The Misunderstood,
Harry Pussy,
Ohio Players,
Gil Scott Heron,
Eve St. Jones,
AZ,
Dual Sessions,
Hoover,
Shoche,
Johnny Osbourne,
Al Stewart,
Donny Hathaway,
Bill Near,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.