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 Kosovo 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 guitar 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 Wasted Youth to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Remains. All the underground hits.
All Oblivians tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skarface record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Arcadia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Aloha Tigers,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Sun Ra,
Ornette Coleman,
Gang Green,
Barry Ungar,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Los Fastidios,
The Mummies,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The American Breed,
Blossom Toes,
La Düsseldorf,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
F. McDonald,
Shoche,
Erasure,
Alton Ellis,
Alice Coltrane,
Erykah Badu,
Quando Quango,
The Kinks,
Mr. Review,
Cluster,
Judy Mowatt,
Gang Starr,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Martian,
Leonard Cohen,
The Electric Prunes,
The Cramps,
X-Ray Spex,
The Smoke,
Flamin' Groovies,
T.S.O.L.,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Youth Brigade,
Crash Course in Science,
Nas,
Bob Dylan,
Sällskapet,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Ponytail,
Public Image Ltd.,
Clear Light,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Flesh Eaters,
UT,
Fatback Band,
Qualms,
Procol Harum,
Glambeats Corp.,
Second Layer,
Slick Rick,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Eden Ahbez,
The Cowsills,
The Victims,
Index, Index, Index, Index.
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.