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 Israel and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Fuzztones to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Goldenarms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Dolphy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Dawn Penn,
Curtis Mayfield,
Neu!,
Cybotron,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Roxette,
June of 44,
The Kinks,
Icehouse,
Mo-Dettes,
June Days,
Glenn Branca,
The Fuzztones,
Nils Olav,
Stiv Bators,
Darondo,
Inner City,
Moebius,
Panda Bear,
Vainqueur,
Ituana,
Traffic Nightmare,
48th St. Collective,
The Pop Group,
The Smoke,
UT,
Gang of Four,
Franke,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Martian,
Bauhaus,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Sound Behaviour,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Barbara Tucker,
Swell Maps,
Warren Ellis,
Lou Reed,
Althea and Donna,
Subhumans,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Offenders,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
John Holt,
MC5,
China Crisis,
Tomorrow,
Kerri Chandler,
Heaven 17,
The Durutti Column,
Thompson Twins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Eve St. Jones,
Niagra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Divine Comedy,
Dave Gahan,
Interpol,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.