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 Cambodia and from Manchester.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the güiro 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 Talk Talk to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All Tom Boy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Starr 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Wasted Youth,
Cluster,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Loose Ends,
Tropical Tobacco,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Barracudas,
Sixth Finger,
Sällskapet,
Desert Stars,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Walker Brothers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Iggy Pop,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Names,
Rakim,
Scrapy,
Livin' Joy,
Surgeon,
Yusef Lateef,
Animal Collective,
H. Thieme,
The Alarm Clocks,
Grey Daturas,
Bang On A Can,
The American Breed,
Porter Ricks,
Brass Construction,
Deakin,
Al Stewart,
Television Personalities,
China Crisis,
Ornette Coleman,
Negative Approach,
Curtis Mayfield,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Happenings,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Index,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jandek,
Kerri Chandler,
Jimmy McGriff,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jeff Lynne,
The Fugs,
Swans,
Qualms,
Boredoms,
Glenn Branca,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Sonny Sharrock,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fluxion,
The Residents,
Lindisfarne,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.