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 Mauritius and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sisters of Mercy to the rap 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cecil Taylor 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tropical Tobacco,
Gang of Four,
Pussy Galore,
Rhythm & Sound,
This Heat,
Nation of Ulysses,
Altered Images,
Boogie Down Productions,
The New Christs,
Pulsallama,
Howard Jones,
Reuben Wilson,
Juan Atkins,
Country Teasers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bill Wells,
The Fugs,
Rufus Thomas,
Flipper,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Tears for Fears,
Ludus,
The Offenders,
Scan 7,
Jeff Lynne,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Adolescents,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Ultra Naté,
Lower 48,
The Misunderstood,
Tommy Roe,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Kerri Chandler,
Scion,
Yellowson,
T.S.O.L.,
Bob Dylan,
DJ Style,
Qualms,
Hashim,
Patti Smith,
Judy Mowatt,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Bananas,
Harmonia,
In Retrospect,
Gang Green,
Spandau Ballet,
The Evens,
Das Ding,
Depeche Mode,
Toni Rubio,
UT,
the Sonics,
Neu!,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Funkadelic,
Negative Approach,
MDC,
Crooked Eye,
Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger, Sixth Finger.
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.