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 Angola and from Delhi.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Blake Baxter to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bill Near 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 '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 Man Eating Sloth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cure,
Pussy Galore,
Eden Ahbez,
Robert Wyatt,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Junior Murvin,
KRS-One,
Eric Dolphy,
Scratch Acid,
Frankie Knuckles,
Can,
Wasted Youth,
Don Cherry,
Lindisfarne,
Sugar Minott,
Royal Trux,
Judy Mowatt,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Visage,
Andrew Hill,
Kurtis Blow,
Terry Callier,
Livin' Joy,
Dark Day,
Minor Threat,
Lou Reed,
Little Man,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Walker Brothers,
Silicon Teens,
Jacob Miller,
Ohio Players,
Joy Division,
Mandrill,
the Germs,
Sun City Girls,
Eric Copeland,
Ludus,
Sound Behaviour,
Cluster,
Robert Hood,
Yellowson,
Barclay James Harvest,
Crooked Eye,
The Young Rascals,
Mars,
Bobby Byrd,
Q and Not U,
Althea and Donna,
Bizarre Inc.,
Black Moon,
Joe Smooth,
Zapp,
The Residents,
Glenn Branca,
Fatback Band,
Black Flag,
Johnny Clarke,
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.