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 Czech Republic and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 U.S. Maple to the grime 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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Agent Orange,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Gastr Del Sol,
Minutemen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Maleditus Sound,
Soft Machine,
Nick Fraelich,
John Cale,
Scion,
Mark Hollis,
Eric B and Rakim,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tubeway Army,
Soulsonic Force,
Half Japanese,
Rod Modell,
Angry Samoans,
Monks,
Derrick Morgan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Barbara Tucker,
Marvin Gaye,
Eric Copeland,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Echospace,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Darondo,
Ossler,
La Düsseldorf,
Steve Hackett,
Groovy Waters,
Oblivians,
Tom Boy,
Quando Quango,
Bronski Beat,
Stockholm Monsters,
Janne Schatter,
The Martian,
Harmonia,
The Busters,
Max Romeo,
Television Personalities,
Dark Day,
Amon Düül II,
The Cure,
Country Teasers,
Parry Music,
Sparks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
T.S.O.L.,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Arcadia,
The Modern Lovers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Popol Vuh,
Slave,
Neil Young,
Barclay James Harvest,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Yellowson,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.