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 Lebanon and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Skarface to the grunge 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul Sonic Force 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Names,
Easy Going,
The Sonics,
Mad Mike,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Henry Cow,
Barclay James Harvest,
Nik Kershaw,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ralphi Rosario,
Judy Mowatt,
The Invisible,
The Residents,
Slave,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rakim,
Sonic Youth,
UT,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Durutti Column,
Crime,
Piero Umiliani,
T. Rex,
Idris Muhammad,
Youth Brigade,
Rod Modell,
Black Moon,
Alice Coltrane,
Max Romeo,
MDC,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jacques Brel,
Peter & Gordon,
The Index,
Roy Ayers,
Second Layer,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Parry Music,
Gang Green,
Make Up,
Duran Duran,
John Lydon,
Tears for Fears,
The Blues Magoos,
Absolute Body Control,
Jerry's Kids,
The Saints,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eli Mardock,
Jeff Mills,
Grey Daturas,
Brothers Johnson,
Lower 48,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Flash Fearless,
The Stooges,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.