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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin 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 Sandy B to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Monks. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roger Hodgson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pantaleimon,
Crooked Eye,
Reuben Wilson,
the Swans,
Roxette,
Ultimate Spinach,
Inner City,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scratch Acid,
The Zeros,
Wire,
Intrusion,
Can,
Kerrie Biddell,
Yazoo,
Rufus Thomas,
Erasure,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
Joy Division,
The Sonics,
Banda Bassotti,
Spoonie Gee,
The Doors,
KRS-One,
Magma,
Jimmy McGriff,
Henry Cow,
Archie Shepp,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Leaves,
Gang Starr,
Pussy Galore,
Patti Smith,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Malaria!,
L. Decosne,
The Neon Judgement,
Lou Reed,
Liliput,
The Invisible,
Talk Talk,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Golliwogs,
Glenn Branca,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Matthew Bourne,
Yusef Lateef,
Charles Mingus,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Buzzcocks,
Loose Ends,
Lower 48,
Shuggie Otis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Human League,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Derrick Morgan,
Lou Christie,
Drexciya,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.