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 Swaziland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 mellotron 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 Ultravox to the grime 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Glenn Branca record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Crash Course in Science,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Ken Boothe,
Carl Craig,
Goldenarms,
Tres Demented,
Nick Fraelich,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Rosa Yemen,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang Green,
Severed Heads,
Joe Finger,
Wasted Youth,
DJ Sneak,
Pet Shop Boys,
Index,
Tears for Fears,
Ice-T,
Gang of Four,
Marcia Griffiths,
Blossom Toes,
Adolescents,
Freddie Wadling,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jerry's Kids,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Buzzcocks,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gichy Dan,
Easy Going,
Sound Behaviour,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Last Poets,
Stetsasonic,
Nils Olav,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Khruangbin,
Soulsonic Force,
The Divine Comedy,
Rotary Connection,
Angry Samoans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Bobby Byrd,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
10cc,
Pantytec,
Los Fastidios,
Organ,
Q and Not U,
Nation of Ulysses,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Music Machine,
The Saints,
Bang On A Can,
Boz Scaggs,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.