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 Iceland and from Bologna.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Boogie Down Productions to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All a-ha tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fall 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 snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Avey Tare,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Yaz,
Eric Copeland,
L. Decosne,
Tropical Tobacco,
R.M.O.,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ronnie Foster,
David Bowie,
Crash Course in Science,
June Days,
Gregory Isaacs,
Joensuu 1685,
Jawbox,
Newcleus,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Gories,
The Sound,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Gladiators,
ABC,
Masters at Work,
Rites of Spring,
Sex Pistols,
Skarface,
David Axelrod,
Scan 7,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Tom Boy,
The Saints,
Yellowson,
The Flesh Eaters,
Khruangbin,
Porter Ricks,
Ultra Naté,
The Wake,
Donny Hathaway,
Altered Images,
The Seeds,
Kaleidoscope,
Warren Ellis,
The Toasters,
The Human League,
Goldenarms,
the Germs,
The Last Poets,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Television Personalities,
Scrapy,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fugazi,
Glambeats Corp.,
Soft Cell,
Underground Resistance,
Bobby Byrd,
Black Sheep,
Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat, Minor Threat.
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.