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 Kenya and from Bologna.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the snare 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 punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stockholm Monsters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Yaz,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ossler,
In Retrospect,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Five Americans,
World's Most,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Electric Prunes,
Lungfish,
Funkadelic,
Tom Boy,
Janne Schatter,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Rosa Yemen,
The Blackbyrds,
Liliput,
Skaos,
Underground Resistance,
Buzzcocks,
The Neon Judgement,
Unwound,
Porter Ricks,
Gang Green,
Wasted Youth,
Basic Channel,
Hashim,
Little Man,
The Black Dice,
F. McDonald,
Sonny Sharrock,
Tropical Tobacco,
David Axelrod,
Con Funk Shun,
Pussy Galore,
the Germs,
Hoover,
Camouflage,
Grauzone,
Minnie Riperton,
Peter and Kerry,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pharoah Sanders,
Brick,
Darondo,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Reagan Youth,
the Slits,
The Doobie Brothers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Simply Red,
Khruangbin,
Steve Hackett,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Angry Samoans,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sam Rivers,
Visage,
The Fortunes,
Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy, Harry Pussy.
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.