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 Netherlands and from Paris.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Holger Czukay 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 Sexual Harrassment to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter and Kerry 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Andrew Hill,
Spandau Ballet,
The Remains,
The Dirtbombs,
The Durutti Column,
Jacques Brel,
Nas,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Skatalites,
Das Ding,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
R.M.O.,
The Mojo Men,
Marc Almond,
Todd Terry,
Masters at Work,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Boz Scaggs,
Surgeon,
The Neon Judgement,
Schoolly D,
The Barracudas,
Tropical Tobacco,
Stiv Bators,
Don Cherry,
Lower 48,
Alphaville,
Davy DMX,
Hoover,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Moon,
Dark Day,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Niagra,
Amon Düül II,
Sonny Sharrock,
Urselle,
The Leaves,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Bar-Kays,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Monks,
Radio Birdman,
Tres Demented,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Albert Ayler,
Roxy Music,
John Cale,
Barbara Tucker,
The Fuzztones,
Barry Ungar,
the Normal,
Susan Cadogan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lalann,
Malaria!,
Ultra Naté,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Brass Construction,
Unwound,
Quantec, Quantec, Quantec, Quantec.
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.