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 El Salvador and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 United States of America to the crunk 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Electric Prunes,
The Wake,
Chrome,
The Gories,
The Tremeloes,
F. McDonald,
Frankie Knuckles,
Dennis Brown,
Archie Shepp,
Organ,
Todd Terry,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Funkadelic,
Sun Ra,
Robert Wyatt,
Eurythmics,
Girls At Our Best!,
The United States of America,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
ABC,
Scrapy,
Bob Dylan,
Motorama,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Black Dice,
Tubeway Army,
Leonard Cohen,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Joey Negro,
The Music Machine,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Sister Nancy,
Ultimate Spinach,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Procol Harum,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Gladiators,
Janne Schatter,
Marmalade,
Gregory Isaacs,
AZ,
Max Romeo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Flesh Eaters,
T. Rex,
Gang Starr,
Bobby Byrd,
Lindisfarne,
Pylon,
Yellowson,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
La Düsseldorf,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Susan Cadogan,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Searchers,
The Move,
Faraquet,
Adolescents,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
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.