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 Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Toronto and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 clarinet 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 Pulsallama to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Ronnie Foster tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Selector Dub Narcotic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a David Axelrod record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bobby Womack,
Pylon,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
China Crisis,
Bootsy Collins,
Danielle Patucci,
The Fuzztones,
X-102,
The Gories,
Loose Ends,
Althea and Donna,
Alphaville,
Pussy Galore,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Brass Construction,
The Blues Magoos,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Scott Walker,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Roxy Music,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bobby Sherman,
Cecil Taylor,
Carl Craig,
Sun Ra,
Technova,
Faust,
The Trojans,
Agitation Free,
Arcadia,
Amazonics,
Royal Trux,
Sun City Girls,
Liliput,
John Cale,
Bad Manners,
Reuben Wilson,
Scientists,
The Searchers,
Popol Vuh,
Matthew Halsall,
Inner City,
The Flesh Eaters,
Todd Terry,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Unwound,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Holt,
Rapeman,
Fugazi,
Darondo,
Barrington Levy,
Jandek,
Mandrill,
Public Enemy,
Nirvana,
Rotary Connection,
Bill Near,
Massinfluence,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.