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 United Kingdom and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Beijing.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Harry Pussy to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Vogues. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Men They Couldn't Hang 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 guitar and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boredoms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Angry Samoans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
David McCallum,
Adolescents,
Barrington Levy,
The Five Americans,
Model 500,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Talk Talk,
Sarah Menescal,
X-Ray Spex,
The Cowsills,
Babytalk,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wally Richardson,
The Skatalites,
Second Layer,
Andrew Hill,
X-102,
Average White Band,
Dawn Penn,
This Heat,
Curtis Mayfield,
Prince Buster,
Gerry Rafferty,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Zeros,
Porter Ricks,
B.T. Express,
Nirvana,
Radio Birdman,
Marvin Gaye,
Yusef Lateef,
Aural Exciters,
Hoover,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pet Shop Boys,
Grey Daturas,
Gang of Four,
The Mummies,
Godley & Creme,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lalo Schifrin,
Erasure,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Ultra Naté,
Juan Atkins,
T. Rex,
Icehouse,
Rites of Spring,
Ohio Players,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Mad Mike,
Liliput,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Camberwell Now,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Donny Hathaway,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.