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 Dominican Republic 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the theremin 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 T.S.O.L. to the jazz 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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Lou Christie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Velvet Underground,
K-Klass,
Grauzone,
X-Ray Spex,
Boredoms,
Kerri Chandler,
Black Moon,
Bob Dylan,
The Barracudas,
Yellowson,
Bad Manners,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tubeway Army,
Patti Smith,
Dual Sessions,
June of 44,
Lucky Dragons,
Minutemen,
Severed Heads,
Faraquet,
John Foxx,
Henry Cow,
Underground Resistance,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Motorama,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Moleskins,
The Misunderstood,
Archie Shepp,
Byron Stingily,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Five Americans,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Young Rascals,
Section 25,
Piero Umiliani,
Joyce Sims,
the Normal,
Ronan,
Eli Mardock,
Loose Ends,
Kevin Saunderson,
The American Breed,
The Modern Lovers,
Bluetip,
48th St. Collective,
James White and The Blacks,
The J.B.'s,
Blake Baxter,
Bill Wells,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Monolake,
Babytalk,
Urselle,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Reuben Wilson,
Grey Daturas,
Television,
Banda Bassotti,
EPMD, EPMD, EPMD, EPMD.
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.