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 Suriname and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 rhodes 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 Tom Boy to the jazz 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 The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Echo & the Bunnymen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers 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 a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Sonics,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Smog,
Procol Harum,
The Fugs,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barrington Levy,
Porter Ricks,
Eve St. Jones,
The Slits,
Tears for Fears,
Oblivians,
Black Sheep,
Inner City,
The Moody Blues,
Brass Construction,
Bluetip,
Con Funk Shun,
Duran Duran,
Jesper Dahlback,
Roger Hodgson,
Stetsasonic,
The Beau Brummels,
Josef K,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The United States of America,
The Five Americans,
Minutemen,
Arcadia,
Fear,
Amon Düül,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Buckinghams,
Pulsallama,
UT,
the Association,
Dave Gahan,
Slick Rick,
Surgeon,
The Star Department,
Sun City Girls,
Ronan,
Gabor Szabo,
Junior Murvin,
The Doors,
Brick,
Matthew Bourne,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Kevin Saunderson,
Grey Daturas,
The Grass Roots,
Soft Machine,
Chrome,
Robert Wyatt,
The Blackbyrds,
Letta Mbulu,
Janne Schatter,
The Cowsills,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Misunderstood,
Bad Manners,
Absolute Body Control,
Cecil Taylor,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.