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 Guatemala and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cecil Taylor 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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Sun City Girls,
Bang On A Can,
the Bar-Kays,
The Martian,
Aaron Thompson,
Minor Threat,
Cecil Taylor,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pussy Galore,
The Vogues,
a-ha,
Gregory Isaacs,
Pere Ubu,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Howard Jones,
The Searchers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Last Poets,
Surgeon,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sight & Sound,
Aloha Tigers,
cv313,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
MDC,
Colin Newman,
Magma,
Jerry's Kids,
Juan Atkins,
Delta 5,
Carl Craig,
R.M.O.,
Angry Samoans,
Radio Birdman,
Soul II Soul,
Eric B and Rakim,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Young Rascals,
The Smiths,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stereo Dub,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scratch Acid,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Five Americans,
Bobby Byrd,
Index,
Ken Boothe,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Leaves,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Misunderstood,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Marmalade,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Trojans,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.