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 Bulgaria and from Manila.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Nation of Ulysses to the techno 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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eyeless In Gaza,
These Immortal Souls,
Roxy Music,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Moby Grape,
The Invisible,
Spoonie Gee,
Todd Terry,
Gil Scott Heron,
Albert Ayler,
Mars,
Echospace,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
X-102,
Sex Pistols,
Tres Demented,
Simply Red,
Masters at Work,
The Flesh Eaters,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
David Bowie,
Anthony Braxton,
Kerri Chandler,
The United States of America,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
World's Most,
Rakim,
Chrome,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Kenny Larkin,
Grauzone,
Kurtis Blow,
The Zeros,
H. Thieme,
Quantec,
Man Parrish,
Robert Wyatt,
Camberwell Now,
Kayak,
Sound Behaviour,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Shadows of Knight,
Fear,
Minny Pops,
The Victims,
the Germs,
Grey Daturas,
The Dirtbombs,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Patti Smith,
Funkadelic,
Tom Boy,
Absolute Body Control,
Donny Hathaway,
Unrelated Segments,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ultra Naté,
the Soft Cell,
The Cure,
Royal Trux,
Barrington Levy,
Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson, Wally Richardson.
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.