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 Albania and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Electric Light Orchestra to the rap 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fela Kuti 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a K-Klass record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Rapeman,
Mad Mike,
Spandau Ballet,
Crispian St. Peters,
Yusef Lateef,
Ossler,
Lucky Dragons,
Easy Going,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Gories,
The Angels of Light,
Talk Talk,
The Trojans,
The Barracudas,
Y Pants,
Yellowson,
Visage,
Brick,
The Gap Band,
Lou Reed,
Deepchord,
The United States of America,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Music Machine,
Scott Walker,
Duran Duran,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Skaos,
Graham Central Station,
In Retrospect,
Skarface,
Minutemen,
China Crisis,
Bill Wells,
The Cramps,
Steve Hackett,
Pere Ubu,
Pussy Galore,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Arcadia,
The Index,
Rites of Spring,
John Coltrane,
Young Marble Giants,
Vladislav Delay,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Danielle Patucci,
Swans,
Whodini,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Mummies,
Basic Channel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Monks,
Motorama,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Intrusion,
Maleditus Sound,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Charles Mingus,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.