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 Mali and from Hong Kong.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grime 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 The Motions. All the underground hits.
All Maleditus Sound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James Chance & The Contortions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Bush Tetras,
Bauhaus,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Boredoms,
Flipper,
Malaria!,
the Fania All-Stars,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Human League,
Underground Resistance,
The Zeros,
The Electric Prunes,
Tim Buckley,
Altered Images,
Index,
Gil Scott Heron,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Johnny Osbourne,
Y Pants,
The Fire Engines,
Robert Hood,
X-101,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Easy Going,
Pulsallama,
Matthew Halsall,
Alice Coltrane,
Royal Trux,
Subhumans,
Wings,
Magazine,
Warsaw,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stetsasonic,
Curtis Mayfield,
Little Man,
Gabor Szabo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Blues Magoos,
Frankie Knuckles,
Animal Collective,
Parry Music,
Trumans Water,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fugazi,
Cluster,
Bronski Beat,
June of 44,
Swell Maps,
The Smiths,
These Immortal Souls,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
OOIOO,
Siglo XX,
Magma,
Whodini,
The Sound,
Radio Birdman,
Gang of Four,
Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest, Barclay James Harvest.
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.