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 Samoa and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 Michael McDonald 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 Rod Modell to the grunge 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 Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans 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 rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crispian St. Peters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Robert Wyatt,
The Smoke,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
New Age Steppers,
Minny Pops,
China Crisis,
T. Rex,
Khruangbin,
CMW,
Livin' Joy,
Anakelly,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Arthur Verocai,
Soft Cell,
Goldenarms,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Wings,
The Flesh Eaters,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gregory Isaacs,
X-101,
The Music Machine,
The Gladiators,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Clear Light,
Deakin,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Negative Approach,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
L. Decosne,
Young Marble Giants,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Moody Blues,
Fluxion,
Soul II Soul,
Tom Boy,
DNA,
Groovy Waters,
The Pretty Things,
Letta Mbulu,
Eddi Front,
Organ,
The Invisible,
Hot Snakes,
Cameo,
Outsiders,
Amazonics,
The Cosmic Jokers,
the Normal,
Sparks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Amon Düül II,
Babytalk,
Rites of Spring,
James White and The Blacks,
Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya, Drexciya.
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.