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 Iran and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All The Associates tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ohio Players record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donny Hathaway record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
The Beau Brummels,
Urselle,
Alice Coltrane,
Theoretical Girls,
Marc Almond,
Siglo XX,
10cc,
Agitation Free,
Half Japanese,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Neon Judgement,
Angry Samoans,
Reuben Wilson,
Ronan,
Radiohead,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cal Tjader,
The Mojo Men,
the Germs,
Sex Pistols,
Skaos,
Groovy Waters,
H. Thieme,
Kerri Chandler,
Roxette,
Qualms,
Dark Day,
The Kinks,
Jerry's Kids,
Malaria!,
Mission of Burma,
Sandy B,
Erykah Badu,
Thee Headcoats,
Mars,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Divine Comedy,
Royal Trux,
The Black Dice,
The Zeros,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Chrome,
Pantytec,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Pretty Things,
Symarip,
Crispy Ambulance,
Technova,
The Fall,
Q65,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Alton Ellis,
Mark Hollis,
Erasure,
This Heat,
Brothers Johnson,
Aural Exciters,
Amon Düül,
Man Parrish,
Johnny Clarke,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.