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 Liechtenstein and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle 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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Girls At Our Best! to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All The Blackbyrds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Technova,
ABBA,
Au Pairs,
Intrusion,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Shuggie Otis,
Oblivians,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Mandrill,
Joyce Sims,
Magma,
Carl Craig,
Stetsasonic,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
KRS-One,
Lyres,
Scratch Acid,
Young Marble Giants,
Aswad,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Grass Roots,
Ultravox,
Iggy Pop,
Brick,
Lightning Bolt,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Fuzztones,
Infiniti,
Roy Ayers,
Liliput,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fear,
The Slackers,
Whodini,
The Sonics,
Gang Gang Dance,
Flipper,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Young Rascals,
Gastr Del Sol,
Minny Pops,
The Blues Magoos,
Rotary Connection,
the Fania All-Stars,
Procol Harum,
Aural Exciters,
Andrew Hill,
Bobby Womack,
Sound Behaviour,
Marine Girls,
Alphaville,
The Fugs,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Deadbeat,
Ronnie Foster,
Qualms,
Metal Thangz,
Pussy Galore,
Panda Bear,
Soft Machine,
Junior Murvin,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Symarip, Symarip, Symarip, Symarip.
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.