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 Gabon and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bang On A Can to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 8 Eyed Spy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quadrant,
Suburban Knight,
Stiv Bators,
The Misunderstood,
The Sonics,
The J.B.'s,
World's Most,
Brick,
Groovy Waters,
Althea and Donna,
Fatback Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Infiniti,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Reagan Youth,
The Moody Blues,
T.S.O.L.,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Birthday Party,
Young Marble Giants,
the Swans,
Prince Buster,
The Divine Comedy,
Robert Hood,
Theoretical Girls,
Lalann,
Max Romeo,
ABC,
Vladislav Delay,
Subhumans,
The Toasters,
Piero Umiliani,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lebanon Hanover,
Silicon Teens,
DJ Sneak,
Alphaville,
The Grass Roots,
Liliput,
Mad Mike,
Supertramp,
Roger Hodgson,
Sex Pistols,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Derrick May,
the Association,
Faust,
Crime,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Panda Bear,
Scott Walker,
Oblivians,
Boredoms,
Morten Harket,
Echospace,
Bluetip,
Judy Mowatt,
Joensuu 1685,
Spandau Ballet,
Minor Threat,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.