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 Jamaica and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ 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 Pussy Galore to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Robert Hood. All the underground hits.
All Fort Wilson Riot tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lalann,
Bobby Sherman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Animal Collective,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Rod Modell,
Sandy B,
The Evens,
Yaz,
Reagan Youth,
Tomorrow,
Don Cherry,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Scion,
Harmonia,
The Neon Judgement,
Masters at Work,
Minny Pops,
Prince Buster,
Blossom Toes,
Black Moon,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Zapp,
Nick Fraelich,
Judy Mowatt,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Clear Light,
The Birthday Party,
Rosa Yemen,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Flesh Eaters,
Max Romeo,
Sixth Finger,
Nas,
Sparks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Crooked Eye,
Todd Terry,
Moss Icon,
Drexciya,
Brass Construction,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Scratch Acid,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fugs,
The Slits,
Faraquet,
Bob Dylan,
the Bar-Kays,
Donald Byrd,
Electric Prunes,
Warren Ellis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Theoretical Girls,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Scientists,
Echospace,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Von Mondo,
Radio Birdman,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.