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 San Marino and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Johannesburg.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 Crooked Eye to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Normal. All the underground hits.
All Jandek tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
Eden Ahbez,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sex Pistols,
Babytalk,
The Golliwogs,
Unwound,
World's Most,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Aswad,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
K-Klass,
Cymande,
Lou Reed,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Freddie Wadling,
Soft Machine,
Wally Richardson,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Kool Moe Dee,
Amon Düül,
Sound Behaviour,
Hashim,
Pulsallama,
The Birthday Party,
Susan Cadogan,
Ronnie Foster,
Arthur Verocai,
Rufus Thomas,
The Slackers,
Radio Birdman,
The Vogues,
Sarah Menescal,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Swans,
Joe Finger,
The Searchers,
Barry Ungar,
Colin Newman,
Black Bananas,
Mission of Burma,
Marvin Gaye,
Clear Light,
Zapp,
Jimmy McGriff,
Mars,
The Standells,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bluetip,
Barbara Tucker,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Can,
The Techniques,
Intrusion,
Neil Young,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kayak,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Electric Prunes,
Crispy Ambulance,
John Foxx,
Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow, Kurtis Blow.
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.