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 Malawi and from Halifax.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bush Tetras to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gichy Dan. All the underground hits.
All The Count Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Human League 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Blackbyrds,
Harmonia,
June Days,
Little Man,
The Cramps,
Cal Tjader,
The Beau Brummels,
Byron Stingily,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sister Nancy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Anthony Braxton,
Dave Gahan,
Donny Hathaway,
Nils Olav,
Delta 5,
The Techniques,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Ituana,
Siglo XX,
Porter Ricks,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Charles Mingus,
Rufus Thomas,
Terry Callier,
Big Daddy Kane,
June of 44,
Bob Dylan,
Brothers Johnson,
Barry Ungar,
The Black Dice,
D'Angelo,
Davy DMX,
Infiniti,
Chris Corsano,
The Monks,
Ponytail,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Doors,
FM Einheit,
Television Personalities,
Grandmaster Flash,
a-ha,
Alphaville,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Zero Boys,
New York Dolls,
Eden Ahbez,
Qualms,
Icehouse,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Moody Blues,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sandy B,
Das Ding,
F. McDonald,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.