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 Solomon Islands and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in 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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Black Bananas 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 Albert Ayler. All the underground hits.
All The Vogues tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Tomorrow,
Bob Dylan,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ponytail,
Arcadia,
Isaac Hayes,
James Chance & The Contortions,
the Sonics,
Main Source,
The Fugs,
D'Angelo,
The Blackbyrds,
Funkadelic,
Letta Mbulu,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Sonny Sharrock,
Marine Girls,
Monolake,
Sixth Finger,
Mr. Review,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ultra Naté,
Alison Limerick,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jesper Dahlback,
Althea and Donna,
Lungfish,
June Days,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Smiths,
New Order,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ronan,
The Sound,
Vladislav Delay,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barbara Tucker,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lalo Schifrin,
Eddi Front,
the Slits,
Susan Cadogan,
PIL,
Kaleidoscope,
Ultimate Spinach,
Boz Scaggs,
Masters at Work,
Bobby Womack,
Patti Smith,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Robert Görl,
The Pretty Things,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Johnny Clarke,
Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight, Suburban Knight.
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.