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 Sudan and from New York.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 organ 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 The Tremeloes to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Cal Tjader tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hasil Adkins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Marine Girls,
Buzzcocks,
Mission of Burma,
Bauhaus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Parry Music,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Names,
Arthur Verocai,
Guru Guru,
Maurizio,
H. Thieme,
In Retrospect,
Television Personalities,
Sixth Finger,
The Beau Brummels,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Basic Channel,
Cal Tjader,
The Slits,
Patti Smith,
Ten City,
Ronnie Foster,
Au Pairs,
Brick,
Sun City Girls,
Bobby Byrd,
Shoche,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Pulsallama,
Make Up,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rotary Connection,
Freddie Wadling,
Television,
Rakim,
Ponytail,
Angry Samoans,
Sight & Sound,
Chris & Cosey,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Don Cherry,
Tomorrow,
The Black Dice,
The Blues Magoos,
Davy DMX,
Tubeway Army,
Arcadia,
Niagra,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eurythmics,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Zero Boys,
Kaleidoscope,
Bobby Sherman,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.