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 Rwanda and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Patti Smith to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Mandrill. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nico record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Seeds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
E-Dancer,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Boogie Down Productions,
X-Ray Spex,
David Bowie,
Scrapy,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Kerri Chandler,
Ice-T,
The Count Five,
the Normal,
A Certain Ratio,
Reagan Youth,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Flipper,
Arcadia,
Silicon Teens,
Bootsy Collins,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mo-Dettes,
Supertramp,
The Raincoats,
The Fuzztones,
48th St. Collective,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun Ra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Trumans Water,
Guru Guru,
Japan,
Bill Wells,
DJ Style,
James White and The Blacks,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harmonia,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sixth Finger,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Byron Stingily,
The Electric Prunes,
Spandau Ballet,
Curtis Mayfield,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Index,
Bizarre Inc.,
Deakin,
Harry Pussy,
Colin Newman,
The Durutti Column,
Eli Mardock,
Hot Snakes,
Television,
The Velvet Underground,
Au Pairs,
Howard Jones,
Anthony Braxton,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Todd Rundgren,
Fear,
The Pretty Things,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Essential Logic,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.