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 Georgia and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Radiohead to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Fortunes. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every David McCallum 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Be Bop Deluxe record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
Robert Görl,
Q and Not U,
Hardrive,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Stiv Bators,
Marine Girls,
Inner City,
Iggy Pop,
Leonard Cohen,
Lee Hazlewood,
Hoover,
UT,
Black Moon,
Prince Buster,
Chris Corsano,
The Grass Roots,
Au Pairs,
Malaria!,
Johnny Osbourne,
Hashim,
Frankie Knuckles,
Yazoo,
The Fortunes,
the Slits,
Fat Boys,
Franke,
Trumans Water,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Monks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Divine Comedy,
Skaos,
Niagra,
The Beau Brummels,
Cameo,
Tom Boy,
The Count Five,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eli Mardock,
Black Sheep,
Newcleus,
Sällskapet,
Television,
Grey Daturas,
FM Einheit,
The Last Poets,
Minnie Riperton,
Flamin' Groovies,
Los Fastidios,
Excepter,
The Doors,
Blossom Toes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Country Teasers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bill Wells,
Kaleidoscope,
Dead Boys,
World's Most,
Sight & Sound,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.