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 Kosovo and from Accra.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Masters at Work to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Barry Ungar. All the underground hits.
All Agent Orange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dead Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Blake Baxter,
Eve St. Jones,
Gang Starr,
June of 44,
Wire,
Max Romeo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Wolf Eyes,
Thompson Twins,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Electric Prunes,
The Kinks,
Steve Hackett,
Qualms,
Agent Orange,
Duran Duran,
Black Pus,
The Happenings,
The Skatalites,
Tim Buckley,
Cameo,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
FM Einheit,
The Motions,
48th St. Collective,
Isaac Hayes,
Jimmy McGriff,
Television Personalities,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eden Ahbez,
La Düsseldorf,
Tropical Tobacco,
Stiv Bators,
Lalann,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Visage,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Aural Exciters,
Jacques Brel,
Television,
The Gap Band,
The Standells,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Womack,
Crispy Ambulance,
New Order,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Mojo Men,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Harpers Bizarre,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
World's Most,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Minny Pops,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Clear Light,
Massinfluence,
The Leaves,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.