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 Iraq and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Slackers to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Derrick May tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Zapp,
Technova,
The Searchers,
Y Pants,
Negative Approach,
The Wake,
Bobby Womack,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Sonics,
Vladislav Delay,
The Fuzztones,
New York Dolls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Joe Smooth,
Alison Limerick,
Deakin,
MDC,
Youth Brigade,
Monks,
Matthew Halsall,
Throbbing Gristle,
Whodini,
Index,
The Motions,
The Toasters,
Parry Music,
Deadbeat,
Crime,
The Buckinghams,
Clear Light,
Lebanon Hanover,
Con Funk Shun,
Scan 7,
China Crisis,
The Victims,
Moby Grape,
The Angels of Light,
The Alarm Clocks,
Chris Corsano,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Birthday Party,
The Smoke,
Suicide,
Deepchord,
Procol Harum,
Angry Samoans,
The Pop Group,
Robert Görl,
Morten Harket,
The Durutti Column,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Infiniti,
Henry Cow,
Motorama,
Main Source,
Hasil Adkins,
The Names,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Terry Callier,
Dennis Brown,
The Slits,
The American Breed,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.