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 Haiti and from Manila.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 chamberlin 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 Average White Band to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Desert Stars. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust 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?
La Düsseldorf,
Cluster,
Glambeats Corp.,
48th St. Collective,
Buzzcocks,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Saints,
June Days,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Goldenarms,
Icehouse,
Arthur Verocai,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Silicon Teens,
The Gap Band,
Camouflage,
Glenn Branca,
Piero Umiliani,
Steve Hackett,
Harry Pussy,
Gang of Four,
Brass Construction,
Henry Cow,
Ornette Coleman,
Althea and Donna,
Rod Modell,
Dark Day,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Quadrant,
Nico,
Porter Ricks,
Circle Jerks,
Crash Course in Science,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
CMW,
OOIOO,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Popol Vuh,
Loose Ends,
Sun Ra,
Eli Mardock,
Hashim,
Terry Callier,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Blossom Toes,
Robert Görl,
Mary Jane Girls,
Underground Resistance,
Clear Light,
Roxette,
Idris Muhammad,
Neil Young,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Germs,
Aural Exciters,
The Doobie Brothers,
Wolf Eyes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bootsy Collins,
Cymande,
Matthew Halsall,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.