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 Gabon and from Cairo.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Fortunes to the punk 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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Bill Near tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin 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 Mummies,
Oblivians,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Lucky Dragons,
Agitation Free,
The Dirtbombs,
Metal Thangz,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Move,
The Pop Group,
Spandau Ballet,
Amon Düül II,
Monolake,
Janne Schatter,
World's Most,
Glenn Branca,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fugazi,
Ken Boothe,
Bush Tetras,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Cowsills,
Joe Finger,
Todd Terry,
Johnny Clarke,
Ludus,
Rekid,
Byron Stingily,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Al Stewart,
Pylon,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Essential Logic,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Magazine,
Sonny Sharrock,
Loose Ends,
JFA,
Buzzcocks,
Kas Product,
Jimmy McGriff,
K-Klass,
Eurythmics,
The Sisters of Mercy,
New Age Steppers,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Remains,
Popol Vuh,
Slick Rick,
Ultravox,
Camouflage,
Supertramp,
The Durutti Column,
Lower 48,
The Last Poets,
Banda Bassotti,
48th St. Collective,
Crash Course in Science,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
F. McDonald,
Royal Trux,
Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses, Liaisons Dangereuses.
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.