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 Turkmenistan and from Stockholm.
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 Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pere Ubu to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jacob Miller. All the underground hits.
All New York Dolls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 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 Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
The Mojo Men,
Clear Light,
Stiv Bators,
Faust,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sparks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Magazine,
Faraquet,
Nirvana,
The Real Kids,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
48th St. Collective,
Echospace,
Stockholm Monsters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Letta Mbulu,
Ornette Coleman,
John Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mad Mike,
Siglo XX,
Alton Ellis,
Pierre Henry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Donald Byrd,
Nas,
Hasil Adkins,
Fat Boys,
The Dead C,
F. McDonald,
The Dirtbombs,
Jerry's Kids,
Danielle Patucci,
Dorothy Ashby,
Guru Guru,
Parry Music,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Cramps,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Carl Craig,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Todd Terry,
Joey Negro,
Ten City,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Grass Roots,
The Fire Engines,
Aural Exciters,
The Selecter,
Infiniti,
Morten Harket,
Jeff Mills,
Lalann,
Bad Manners,
The Zeros,
Visage,
The Gap Band,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.