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 Tanzania 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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 chamberlin 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 Oneida to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. All the underground hits.
All Essential Logic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythm & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Amazonics,
Public Enemy,
Kayak,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Kerrie Biddell,
Derrick Morgan,
kango's stein massive,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Selecter,
Fluxion,
Can,
Barry Ungar,
OOIOO,
Rapeman,
The Neon Judgement,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bob Dylan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Accadde A,
The Martian,
Pagans,
June of 44,
Harry Pussy,
The Black Dice,
Q65,
Sonny Sharrock,
Black Bananas,
Erasure,
Ultra Naté,
Blossom Toes,
Organ,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sparks,
Scion,
Reagan Youth,
Dennis Brown,
Gang Gang Dance,
Mandrill,
Pierre Henry,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bang On A Can,
Boz Scaggs,
The Blackbyrds,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ultravox,
Tubeway Army,
Magma,
Loose Ends,
The Angels of Light,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Monks,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Gories,
Quando Quango,
Radiopuhelimet,
Stiv Bators,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Althea and Donna,
Saccharine Trust,
The Residents,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.