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 Denmark and from Johannesburg.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Flash Fearless to the crunk 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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kayak record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Amazonics,
Clear Light,
The Smiths,
Bobby Womack,
Bauhaus,
Inner City,
The Smoke,
Flipper,
Godley & Creme,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cheater Slicks,
Gerry Rafferty,
Joey Negro,
The Gladiators,
The Pretty Things,
Byron Stingily,
Deakin,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Letta Mbulu,
Sexual Harrassment,
JFA,
Country Teasers,
F. McDonald,
Amon Düül II,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Bill Near,
Au Pairs,
Grauzone,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joensuu 1685,
Nik Kershaw,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Schoolly D,
Lalann,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Zeros,
The United States of America,
Arthur Verocai,
The Gories,
The Count Five,
The Saints,
The Motions,
DJ Sneak,
One Last Wish,
Graham Central Station,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Monks,
Ten City,
Nico,
R.M.O.,
Rosa Yemen,
The Angels of Light,
Crime,
T. Rex,
The Real Kids,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Delon & Dalcan,
Smog,
Todd Terry,
The Mummies,
Tom Boy,
The Standells,
Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band, Average White Band.
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.