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 Bhutan and from Edmonton.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Pussy Galore to the grunge 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Public Enemy,
Davy DMX,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Marine Girls,
John Coltrane,
Franke,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
This Heat,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Womack,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
10cc,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Easy Going,
Andrew Hill,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Gap Band,
Donald Byrd,
The Knickerbockers,
New Order,
The Move,
Technova,
Joensuu 1685,
Mr. Review,
Alton Ellis,
The Divine Comedy,
Altered Images,
Visage,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mary Jane Girls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Martian,
Swans,
Godley & Creme,
Fela Kuti,
Dual Sessions,
Eve St. Jones,
Pulsallama,
Tears for Fears,
Sly & The Family Stone,
H. Thieme,
Los Fastidios,
Eric B and Rakim,
R.M.O.,
Make Up,
Black Bananas,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Barry Ungar,
Robert Wyatt,
Model 500,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Laurel Aitken,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Saccharine Trust,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Agitation Free,
The Invisible,
Khruangbin,
Soft Cell,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.