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 Belize and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the dance 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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Camberwell Now tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 harpsichord and an organ 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 synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crooked Eye,
The Saints,
Kerrie Biddell,
Talk Talk,
The Divine Comedy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Fear,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Mr. Review,
Sandy B,
Eve St. Jones,
Intrusion,
Marc Almond,
Dark Day,
a-ha,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
June Days,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jandek,
Kayak,
Desert Stars,
Heaven 17,
Underground Resistance,
Niagra,
Roy Ayers,
Pole,
Derrick Morgan,
Boz Scaggs,
Derrick May,
Robert Görl,
Idris Muhammad,
Gang Starr,
In Retrospect,
Ituana,
Section 25,
T. Rex,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Arab on Radar,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Juan Atkins,
Shuggie Otis,
Rod Modell,
These Immortal Souls,
The Last Poets,
Ossler,
Country Teasers,
Moby Grape,
Ultimate Spinach,
DJ Style,
Index,
Eric B and Rakim,
Panda Bear,
Magazine,
Unrelated Segments,
The Offenders,
The Dirtbombs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Real Kids,
Mandrill,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Cramps,
Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop, Iggy Pop.
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.