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 United States and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Count Five to the funk 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 The Divine Comedy. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Donald Byrd,
Blossom Toes,
Duran Duran,
June of 44,
The Black Dice,
The Walker Brothers,
Joensuu 1685,
Scientists,
The Real Kids,
Index,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Fortunes,
Ultimate Spinach,
OOIOO,
Mandrill,
Marshall Jefferson,
Make Up,
Rakim,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Urselle,
Unrelated Segments,
The Selecter,
New York Dolls,
The Names,
Magazine,
Brothers Johnson,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Eddi Front,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Excepter,
Lucky Dragons,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tears for Fears,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
kango's stein massive,
Minny Pops,
Scratch Acid,
Bill Near,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Freddie Wadling,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sound Behaviour,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Traffic Nightmare,
K-Klass,
One Last Wish,
Arthur Verocai,
Quando Quango,
The Divine Comedy,
Buzzcocks,
Zapp,
Minor Threat,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Althea and Donna,
Jacques Brel,
Guru Guru,
Theoretical Girls,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
Ultravox,
Average White Band,
Sam Rivers,
Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive, Kango’s Stein Massive.
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.