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 Pakistan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the linndrum 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 The Tremeloes to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Y Pants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Camberwell Now,
Popol Vuh,
The Moody Blues,
Soul II Soul,
Nick Fraelich,
Easy Going,
Qualms,
Susan Cadogan,
Slave,
DNA,
Talk Talk,
Yazoo,
Ponytail,
Jesper Dahlback,
Eric Copeland,
Youth Brigade,
Donny Hathaway,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Johnny Osbourne,
Roger Hodgson,
Alice Coltrane,
B.T. Express,
The Cramps,
Rekid,
Quando Quango,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Dirtbombs,
Roy Ayers,
Barry Ungar,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Moby Grape,
Oblivians,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Invisible,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bronski Beat,
Sugar Minott,
Letta Mbulu,
Grey Daturas,
Gichy Dan,
Radio Birdman,
Nirvana,
Rosa Yemen,
The Litter,
Circle Jerks,
Sixth Finger,
Tres Demented,
Yusef Lateef,
The Associates,
The Grass Roots,
the Swans,
a-ha,
Scientists,
Unrelated Segments,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rites of Spring,
Das Ding,
Bauhaus,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Gabor Szabo,
Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work, Masters at Work.
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.