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 New Zealand and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Cecil Taylor to the grunge 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 Lyres. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Cale 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dawn Penn,
The J.B.'s,
Liliput,
Blossom Toes,
Delta 5,
Scratch Acid,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Kayak,
Eric B and Rakim,
Underground Resistance,
Motorama,
The Velvet Underground,
The Dead C,
Nation of Ulysses,
Circle Jerks,
Blake Baxter,
The Litter,
The Names,
U.S. Maple,
AZ,
Black Moon,
Marmalade,
Dead Boys,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Skriet,
Jesper Dahlback,
Anakelly,
Oblivians,
The Music Machine,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tubeway Army,
Joe Smooth,
The Seeds,
Terry Callier,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mission of Burma,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Boz Scaggs,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Beau Brummels,
the Swans,
Aural Exciters,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Drexciya,
John Foxx,
Parry Music,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ultra Naté,
The Tremeloes,
Matthew Bourne,
Bad Manners,
Darondo,
Audionom,
Khruangbin,
The Black Dice,
Spandau Ballet,
the Association,
Qualms,
Skarface,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.