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 Paraguay and from New York.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Germs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Electric Prunes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anthony Braxton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flash Fearless,
Tommy Roe,
CMW,
Wings,
Boz Scaggs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Groovy Waters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Cowsills,
Althea and Donna,
Sixth Finger,
The Victims,
Con Funk Shun,
Howard Jones,
Barry Ungar,
Jeff Lynne,
The Cramps,
Pere Ubu,
Brand Nubian,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Divine Comedy,
The Kinks,
Amon Düül II,
Aural Exciters,
Q65,
A Certain Ratio,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Offenders,
Marc Almond,
World's Most,
Steve Hackett,
The Stooges,
Yaz,
Infiniti,
Icehouse,
Sound Behaviour,
Soulsonic Force,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Qualms,
Vainqueur,
These Immortal Souls,
Albert Ayler,
The Last Poets,
Essential Logic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Derrick Morgan,
Agitation Free,
Guru Guru,
Johnny Clarke,
Loose Ends,
The Buckinghams,
Porter Ricks,
Nico,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Charles Mingus,
Scientists,
The Sonics,
The Beau Brummels,
R.M.O.,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Neil Young & Crazy Horse.
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.