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 Mexico and from Calgary.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Vogues to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mojo Men. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blake Baxter 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
KRS-One,
Crooked Eye,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Evens,
Archie Shepp,
Can,
Metal Thangz,
Minutemen,
Faraquet,
Grey Daturas,
Michelle Simonal,
Boogie Down Productions,
Piero Umiliani,
New York Dolls,
Yaz,
The Offenders,
Jimmy McGriff,
Gastr Del Sol,
Junior Murvin,
Ralphi Rosario,
Shuggie Otis,
Siglo XX,
Susan Cadogan,
The Gladiators,
The Monks,
Pulsallama,
Stereo Dub,
Eric B and Rakim,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eli Mardock,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Don Cherry,
Gang Starr,
Robert Wyatt,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Excepter,
Royal Trux,
Ultravox,
The Fugs,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
JFA,
Tim Buckley,
Al Stewart,
The Cramps,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Traffic Nightmare,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Erykah Badu,
James White and The Blacks,
The Busters,
The Cosmic Jokers,
David Bowie,
Peter and Kerry,
The Young Rascals,
The Real Kids,
Kenny Larkin,
Nick Fraelich,
Rekid,
Subhumans,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.