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 Singapore and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 808 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 Bootsy Collins to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kevin Saunderson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Boz Scaggs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Birthday Party,
Charles Mingus,
The Move,
Bang On A Can,
Byron Stingily,
The Doors,
UT,
Au Pairs,
Swans,
Rod Modell,
R.M.O.,
Danielle Patucci,
Big Daddy Kane,
Technova,
Hoover,
The Techniques,
Nirvana,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Cymande,
The Doobie Brothers,
Young Marble Giants,
The Wake,
The Grass Roots,
Wolf Eyes,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Das Ding,
Todd Terry,
Boredoms,
Anakelly,
Soft Machine,
Icehouse,
The Walker Brothers,
Niagra,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Public Enemy,
Amon Düül II,
The Associates,
The Vogues,
Arab on Radar,
Alphaville,
Banda Bassotti,
June of 44,
The Skatalites,
Sixth Finger,
Rotary Connection,
Lakeside,
Liliput,
John Coltrane,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Robert Wyatt,
Mission of Burma,
Judy Mowatt,
Malaria!,
Jawbox,
Popol Vuh,
Swell Maps,
Gang of Four,
Outsiders,
The Monks,
Jeff Lynne,
Peter and Kerry,
Whodini,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.