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 Canada and from Beijing.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
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 These Immortal Souls to the punk 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 The Toasters. All the underground hits.
All Ponytail tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Funky Four + One,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The J.B.'s,
Gang of Four,
Porter Ricks,
Brand Nubian,
Gang Green,
Josef K,
Harry Pussy,
Talk Talk,
Echospace,
Dead Boys,
Hashim,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Section 25,
Albert Ayler,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Holt,
Organ,
Fad Gadget,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Raincoats,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fat Boys,
John Coltrane,
Soul II Soul,
Urselle,
Traffic Nightmare,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Mojo Men,
Amon Düül,
E-Dancer,
Brothers Johnson,
Goldenarms,
Howard Jones,
Archie Shepp,
The Dirtbombs,
ABC,
Ten City,
Lucky Dragons,
Eric Copeland,
Clear Light,
Underground Resistance,
Blossom Toes,
Circle Jerks,
Lalann,
Suburban Knight,
Siglo XX,
This Heat,
Youth Brigade,
Qualms,
Matthew Halsall,
Pere Ubu,
Ultra Naté,
Marc Almond,
Brass Construction,
Donald Byrd,
Sparks,
New Age Steppers,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Glenn Branca,
Aloha Tigers,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.