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 Glasgow.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 linndrum 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 Theoretical Girls to the crunk 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Black Pus,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Divine Comedy,
The Count Five,
Nick Fraelich,
Black Moon,
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare,
Easy Going,
Q and Not U,
Josef K,
Gerry Rafferty,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Arab on Radar,
The Misunderstood,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Stooges,
Charles Mingus,
Minnie Riperton,
Liliput,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Trojans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Goldenarms,
Deepchord,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Animal Collective,
Au Pairs,
The Move,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Erasure,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Dennis Brown,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joe Smooth,
Magma,
The Gap Band,
Anakelly,
The Golliwogs,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lungfish,
Jawbox,
Porter Ricks,
Sarah Menescal,
The Alarm Clocks,
Royal Trux,
Jacques Brel,
The Real Kids,
Jeff Lynne,
The Last Poets,
Panda Bear,
Bush Tetras,
JFA,
Amazonics,
Althea and Donna,
These Immortal Souls,
Zapp,
Darondo,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marmalade,
Don Cherry,
Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red, Simply Red.
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.