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 Syria and from Manila.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Mo-Dettes to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mantronix record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
The Smoke,
L. Decosne,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Roxette,
A Certain Ratio,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Faust,
Babytalk,
Big Daddy Kane,
Glenn Branca,
Half Japanese,
Sparks,
Duran Duran,
Royal Trux,
Fugazi,
The Selecter,
The American Breed,
Mark Hollis,
Piero Umiliani,
The Fugs,
Kas Product,
Funky Four + One,
X-101,
The Cure,
Boz Scaggs,
Malaria!,
Matthew Halsall,
E-Dancer,
Grauzone,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The J.B.'s,
The Doors,
Eric Dolphy,
Whodini,
Rakim,
Barry Ungar,
The Red Krayola,
Quadrant,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Ludus,
ABC,
Boredoms,
cv313,
Black Flag,
Zapp,
Hoover,
Joy Division,
Traffic Nightmare,
Graham Central Station,
Agent Orange,
Tomorrow,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Buzzcocks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Soft Cell,
Dual Sessions,
Moby Grape,
Negative Approach,
Liliput,
Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader, Cal Tjader.
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.