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 Cameroon and from Jakarta.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Malaria!,
Slick Rick,
Buzzcocks,
Bobby Sherman,
Swell Maps,
Graham Central Station,
Bob Dylan,
Oneida,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
CMW,
Lower 48,
Glambeats Corp.,
10cc,
Gichy Dan,
Brick,
Soul Sonic Force,
Funkadelic,
The Gun Club,
Curtis Mayfield,
Barclay James Harvest,
EPMD,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lebanon Hanover,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Q65,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rekid,
Warren Ellis,
Todd Rundgren,
The Slackers,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Sonics,
Excepter,
Erasure,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lindisfarne,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Television,
Scientists,
Guru Guru,
Procol Harum,
Cybotron,
Avey Tare,
David McCallum,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Unwound,
Shuggie Otis,
Morten Harket,
The Doors,
Essential Logic,
Agent Orange,
Warsaw,
E-Dancer,
Erykah Badu,
The Grass Roots,
The Electric Prunes,
The Zeros,
Andrew Hill,
Jacques Brel,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.