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 Seychelles and from Tehran.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Seoul.
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 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 Morten Harket to the punk 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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All The Gories tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Desert Stars 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Severed Heads record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blake Baxter,
The Associates,
Scion,
Visage,
Funkadelic,
Roy Ayers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Names,
Tears for Fears,
Black Bananas,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Red Krayola,
The Gap Band,
Brand Nubian,
Bad Manners,
Charles Mingus,
Colin Newman,
Bizarre Inc.,
AZ,
The Monochrome Set,
Tres Demented,
Marshall Jefferson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Soft Machine,
Heaven 17,
Lucky Dragons,
Minor Threat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jandek,
Black Sheep,
Mad Mike,
Sun Ra,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ice-T,
Funky Four + One,
Jerry's Kids,
Terrestrial Tones,
Monolake,
Eli Mardock,
Bootsy Collins,
Agent Orange,
Lalo Schifrin,
Laurel Aitken,
Hashim,
Cal Tjader,
Boredoms,
The J.B.'s,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cybotron,
Delon & Dalcan,
Interpol,
Con Funk Shun,
Little Man,
the Soft Cell,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.