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 Finland and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and New York.
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 Nile Rodgers 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 FM Einheit to the electroclash 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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Heaven 17 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
China Crisis,
Kerri Chandler,
Inner City,
Letta Mbulu,
Roxy Music,
Crooked Eye,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Black Dice,
John Coltrane,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Leonard Cohen,
the Slits,
Average White Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Derrick May,
Shuggie Otis,
Massinfluence,
The Victims,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Nirvana,
Quadrant,
David McCallum,
Susan Cadogan,
T. Rex,
The Seeds,
The Mummies,
Reagan Youth,
Slave,
Steve Hackett,
JFA,
Scientists,
The Pretty Things,
Laurel Aitken,
Symarip,
Mary Jane Girls,
Delon & Dalcan,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Gladiators,
Amon Düül,
Robert Wyatt,
T.S.O.L.,
Jacob Miller,
U.S. Maple,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Scion,
Ludus,
ABC,
Byron Stingily,
Moby Grape,
Thompson Twins,
Rotary Connection,
Porter Ricks,
Young Marble Giants,
The Detroit Cobras,
John Holt,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Tres Demented,
Grauzone,
Magazine,
Trumans Water,
The Martian,
Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger, Joe Finger.
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.