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 Somalia 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Alarm Clocks to the grime 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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DNA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glenn Branca,
Au Pairs,
Supertramp,
DJ Style,
Gang Gang Dance,
48th St. Collective,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sparks,
Malaria!,
New York Dolls,
Lungfish,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Tres Demented,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Radio Birdman,
The United States of America,
The Durutti Column,
The Electric Prunes,
The Remains,
Heaven 17,
Thompson Twins,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Silicon Teens,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lightning Bolt,
Model 500,
Agent Orange,
Soft Machine,
Jeru the Damaja,
Letta Mbulu,
Ponytail,
The Slackers,
10cc,
Parry Music,
Skaos,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amon Düül,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
One Last Wish,
Gang Starr,
the Association,
The Monks,
Chris & Cosey,
The Fall,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
Roxy Music,
Kas Product,
Boogie Down Productions,
Q and Not U,
The Sonics,
X-Ray Spex,
Roy Ayers,
The Moleskins,
Brand Nubian,
Janne Schatter,
Cabaret Voltaire,
T. Rex,
Beasts of Bourbon,
X-102, X-102, X-102, X-102.
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.