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 New Zealand and from Stockholm.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the dance 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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Scrapy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Kayak,
Hot Snakes,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Todd Terry,
Yusef Lateef,
The Gun Club,
Isaac Hayes,
Jawbox,
The Doors,
Yaz,
K-Klass,
Robert Görl,
Godley & Creme,
Young Marble Giants,
Johnny Clarke,
Los Fastidios,
Rhythm & Sound,
Hashim,
the Swans,
Eric Dolphy,
Ultra Naté,
The Beau Brummels,
Graham Central Station,
June Days,
Rufus Thomas,
Marshall Jefferson,
Section 25,
The Dead C,
Wasted Youth,
The Kinks,
Bang On A Can,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
kango's stein massive,
Bobby Womack,
Davy DMX,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scratch Acid,
Surgeon,
Boz Scaggs,
Crooked Eye,
Television,
Nik Kershaw,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Normal,
The New Christs,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Young Rascals,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Zero Boys,
Pagans,
Reagan Youth,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Little Man,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Monks,
Fad Gadget,
Pantaleimon,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.