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 Syria and from Spokane.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Fortunes to the techno 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 Television Personalities. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pole,
The Durutti Column,
Glenn Branca,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Altered Images,
Unwound,
The Martian,
The Cramps,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Fatback Band,
Iggy Pop,
The Gun Club,
The Cure,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lungfish,
The New Christs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Godley & Creme,
Skriet,
Procol Harum,
Babytalk,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lucky Dragons,
Kerri Chandler,
Wire,
Depeche Mode,
Masters at Work,
The Last Poets,
Faust,
The Kinks,
Archie Shepp,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Camberwell Now,
KRS-One,
New Age Steppers,
Cal Tjader,
Second Layer,
Bobby Byrd,
Ossler,
Anthony Braxton,
Whodini,
John Cale,
Absolute Body Control,
Tears for Fears,
Mantronix,
The Misunderstood,
X-101,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bill Near,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
FM Einheit,
Outsiders,
The Trojans,
Pierre Henry,
ABC,
The Move,
Angry Samoans,
Dave Gahan,
Scrapy,
Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions, Dual Sessions.
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.