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 Botswana and from Woodstock.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Techniques to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bill Wells. All the underground hits.
All The Zeros tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sunsets and Hearts 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Idris Muhammad record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
June of 44,
Arab on Radar,
Sex Pistols,
Scion,
Mars,
Davy DMX,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Five Americans,
Scrapy,
Lou Reed,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Lyres,
Godley & Creme,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eric Dolphy,
Organ,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Eddi Front,
the Human League,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Howard Jones,
Carl Craig,
Jacques Brel,
MDC,
Sugar Minott,
Bill Wells,
New Order,
Maleditus Sound,
Banda Bassotti,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Motions,
Aaron Thompson,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Los Fastidios,
Albert Ayler,
The Offenders,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Ituana,
Joy Division,
Unrelated Segments,
Terry Callier,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Durutti Column,
Nico,
T.S.O.L.,
The Trojans,
Arcadia,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Accadde A,
The Doobie Brothers,
Excepter,
Ken Boothe,
B.T. Express,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Buckinghams,
cv313,
Marine Girls,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.