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 Belarus and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Lalann to the dance 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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxette record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
The Index,
The Young Rascals,
Dennis Brown,
The Sonics,
Khruangbin,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Blackbyrds,
Sex Pistols,
The Names,
Stockholm Monsters,
New York Dolls,
Tom Boy,
Yaz,
Graham Central Station,
Flipper,
Scientists,
Ralphi Rosario,
Skarface,
Be Bop Deluxe,
T.S.O.L.,
Deepchord,
The Black Dice,
Ronnie Foster,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Brass Construction,
The Kinks,
the Swans,
The Vogues,
The Monochrome Set,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Leonard Cohen,
Fear,
James White and The Blacks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Throbbing Gristle,
Organ,
The Moody Blues,
The Velvet Underground,
Avey Tare,
Cecil Taylor,
Massinfluence,
Sixth Finger,
Michelle Simonal,
Easy Going,
Nirvana,
The Invisible,
Mo-Dettes,
Black Bananas,
Q and Not U,
X-102,
Franke,
Man Parrish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roxette,
The Buckinghams,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Blues Magoos,
Simply Red,
The United States of America,
Radiohead,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.