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 Uganda and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bobby Sherman to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Hoover. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Dark Day,
Blancmange,
Skriet,
John Holt,
Pere Ubu,
A Certain Ratio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Warren Ellis,
Vladislav Delay,
Minutemen,
Lyres,
Stiv Bators,
Michelle Simonal,
Cluster,
Black Pus,
Cybotron,
the Bar-Kays,
The Move,
Loose Ends,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sex Pistols,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Seeds,
Sandy B,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Eurythmics,
Unrelated Segments,
Wire,
The Fortunes,
Grandmaster Flash,
DJ Style,
The Grass Roots,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Nas,
Royal Trux,
Fela Kuti,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Todd Terry,
Mo-Dettes,
Robert Hood,
Rekid,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Pussy Galore,
Roger Hodgson,
The Sound,
Quantec,
H. Thieme,
New Age Steppers,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
T. Rex,
Banda Bassotti,
The Monks,
Dorothy Ashby,
John Foxx,
Desert Stars,
Marcia Griffiths,
Kayak,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.