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 Belgium and from Woodstock.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Von Mondo to the funk 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 The Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Bootsy Collins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boogie Down Productions record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
F. McDonald,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Amazonics,
Charles Mingus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bill Near,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Shadows of Knight,
Peter and Kerry,
The Selecter,
Vladislav Delay,
The Wake,
Metal Thangz,
Camberwell Now,
Joey Negro,
Arcadia,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Fania All-Stars,
Circle Jerks,
Malaria!,
Traffic Nightmare,
Zero Boys,
The Seeds,
Gil Scott Heron,
Crime,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Eric Dolphy,
Bob Dylan,
Whodini,
Cluster,
Jawbox,
Todd Rundgren,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jerry's Kids,
Aloha Tigers,
Hasil Adkins,
Iggy Pop,
Joy Division,
KRS-One,
Chrome,
The Fortunes,
June of 44,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Unrelated Segments,
The Dirtbombs,
Harry Pussy,
Crash Course in Science,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Pretty Things,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jacob Miller,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sällskapet,
the Germs,
The Happenings,
Robert Wyatt,
Eric B and Rakim,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Simply Red,
Thompson Twins,
Boz Scaggs,
The Cowsills,
Anakelly,
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.