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 Zimbabwe and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the crunk 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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All 8 Eyed Spy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ronan,
Steve Hackett,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Saints,
Aaron Thompson,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Swans,
Rekid,
the Germs,
Joe Finger,
The Seeds,
Sister Nancy,
Reagan Youth,
Amon Düül II,
The Stooges,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
E-Dancer,
Blake Baxter,
Maleditus Sound,
Pole,
New Age Steppers,
The Knickerbockers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Marine Girls,
Malaria!,
The Fugs,
Buzzcocks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Yusef Lateef,
Eurythmics,
World's Most,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bizarre Inc.,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
David Axelrod,
Matthew Halsall,
The Mummies,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott Heron,
U.S. Maple,
Man Parrish,
Stiv Bators,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Alphaville,
Johnny Clarke,
Lightning Bolt,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Marmalade,
Anakelly,
Graham Central Station,
X-102,
Rakim,
Pantaleimon,
Tomorrow,
Severed Heads,
Spoonie Gee,
Khruangbin,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Misunderstood,
Warren Ellis,
Trumans Water,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.