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 Lesotho and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Main Source to the grime 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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 guitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a PIL record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
This Heat,
Albert Ayler,
Outsiders,
Jerry's Kids,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Ice-T,
The Martian,
Circle Jerks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Remains,
The Grass Roots,
Porter Ricks,
The Invisible,
The Neon Judgement,
Gerry Rafferty,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
ABBA,
Andrew Hill,
Drexciya,
Letta Mbulu,
Kerri Chandler,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Harpers Bizarre,
Zero Boys,
Kurtis Blow,
X-102,
Steve Hackett,
Gong,
John Lydon,
Silicon Teens,
Laurel Aitken,
Terry Callier,
The Cure,
The Human League,
Johnny Clarke,
Rapeman,
Essential Logic,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Germs,
Harmonia,
The Young Rascals,
The Doobie Brothers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Malaria!,
The Evens,
Loose Ends,
CMW,
The Knickerbockers,
Darondo,
New Order,
The United States of America,
Alison Limerick,
Spoonie Gee,
Deepchord,
Underground Resistance,
Cluster,
Alice Coltrane,
Delon & Dalcan,
Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox, Ultravox.
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.