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 Korea South and from Philadelphia.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the rock 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 Count Five. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Velvet Underground record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Girls At Our Best! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Newcleus,
Fear,
The Tremeloes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Y Pants,
Stereo Dub,
Yusef Lateef,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lou Christie,
The Cowsills,
Massinfluence,
the Sonics,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Infiniti,
The Real Kids,
Pantytec,
Pylon,
MDC,
Surgeon,
Altered Images,
Kurtis Blow,
Chrome,
The Kinks,
Q and Not U,
Royal Trux,
Inner City,
Skarface,
Robert Wyatt,
Carl Craig,
The Offenders,
Maurizio,
The Moody Blues,
Shuggie Otis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Livin' Joy,
Main Source,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Pantaleimon,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wasted Youth,
The Star Department,
Moss Icon,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Absolute Body Control,
Fatback Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Make Up,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Magazine,
World's Most,
Lucky Dragons,
Lyres,
Vainqueur,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Agent Orange,
Moebius,
Swans,
Harry Pussy,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.