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 Japan and from Milan.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the rhodes 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 kango's stein massive to the grunge 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 Aaron Thompson. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radiopuhelimet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cymande,
The Misunderstood,
The Smoke,
Sparks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Pop Group,
Tomorrow,
X-Ray Spex,
Unwound,
Los Fastidios,
Eden Ahbez,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Motorama,
Gang Green,
Hot Snakes,
Tim Buckley,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jimmy McGriff,
Aural Exciters,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Matthew Bourne,
Peter and Kerry,
Duran Duran,
The Neon Judgement,
Moebius,
Cecil Taylor,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Infiniti,
Pussy Galore,
Henry Cow,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Robert Wyatt,
The Smiths,
Amazonics,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Marmalade,
Y Pants,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Charles Mingus,
Technova,
48th St. Collective,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dual Sessions,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Evens,
Cal Tjader,
Eurythmics,
Wally Richardson,
Khruangbin,
Yellowson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Electric Prunes,
Roger Hodgson,
Sun City Girls,
Darondo,
Camberwell Now,
Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp, Supertramp.
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.