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 Bhutan and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Lou Reed 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 The Beau Brummels to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Selecter. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Johnny Osbourne,
David McCallum,
Jeru the Damaja,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Victims,
Fat Boys,
Qualms,
Funky Four + One,
Loose Ends,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sparks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pierre Henry,
The Divine Comedy,
Saccharine Trust,
Aswad,
Model 500,
Symarip,
Sun City Girls,
Gang Starr,
The Flesh Eaters,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Visage,
Unwound,
Michelle Simonal,
Lindisfarne,
Mars,
Terry Callier,
The Fuzztones,
UT,
Pagans,
Supertramp,
The Leaves,
The Gories,
The Names,
K-Klass,
Dawn Penn,
the Soft Cell,
Kayak,
the Bar-Kays,
Bobby Hutcherson,
CMW,
Flamin' Groovies,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The New Christs,
Todd Rundgren,
Arcadia,
Deakin,
Eric Dolphy,
Audionom,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Moon,
Surgeon,
Niagra,
Quadrant,
Quantec,
Technova,
The Dead C,
Oblivians,
The Evens,
The Mojo Men,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.