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 Libya and from Copenhagen.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Smog to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jeff Mills. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every La Düsseldorf 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 a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Quando Quango,
Mars,
Sällskapet,
Ten City,
Bang On A Can,
Blancmange,
Echospace,
Circle Jerks,
Oneida,
Public Enemy,
Brass Construction,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Gap Band,
Sex Pistols,
Michelle Simonal,
Can,
Intrusion,
Crispy Ambulance,
Vladislav Delay,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Toasters,
Ultravox,
Fad Gadget,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tommy Roe,
Brothers Johnson,
Bobby Sherman,
The Angels of Light,
Johnny Osbourne,
The J.B.'s,
Arthur Verocai,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Music Machine,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Henry Cow,
Nik Kershaw,
Buzzcocks,
Moss Icon,
Ossler,
Glambeats Corp.,
Todd Terry,
Terrestrial Tones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Subhumans,
Cecil Taylor,
Soul II Soul,
The American Breed,
Throbbing Gristle,
Dennis Brown,
The Buckinghams,
Swell Maps,
Average White Band,
Los Fastidios,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Visage,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fat Boys,
The Five Americans,
The Mummies,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark.
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.