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 Tajikistan and from Manchester.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jacob Miller to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Babytalk 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
The Doors,
The Gun Club,
Skarface,
The Misunderstood,
Angry Samoans,
Marmalade,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ronan,
Index,
Carl Craig,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Toasters,
Matthew Bourne,
The Gories,
Harry Pussy,
The Angels of Light,
Black Flag,
Janne Schatter,
Sly & The Family Stone,
One Last Wish,
Urselle,
Main Source,
D'Angelo,
Fat Boys,
Sun Ra,
Marvin Gaye,
Masters at Work,
Surgeon,
Yellowson,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Leonard Cohen,
a-ha,
New Age Steppers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Drive Like Jehu,
the Slits,
Alison Limerick,
Nico,
David Bowie,
Dual Sessions,
Terry Callier,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Excepter,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Buckinghams,
Crooked Eye,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Pussy Galore,
The Pretty Things,
Altered Images,
Silicon Teens,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
U.S. Maple,
Rakim,
Smog,
Dark Day,
Dennis Brown,
Don Cherry,
Von Mondo,
Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec, Pantytec.
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.