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 Malta and from Bologna.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Glambeats Corp. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every a-ha record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 guitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Nick Fraelich,
Clear Light,
Jandek,
Quantec,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Godley & Creme,
X-Ray Spex,
Bobby Sherman,
The Black Dice,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Little Man,
Zero Boys,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
Drexciya,
Rosa Yemen,
Sun Ra,
Excepter,
Nas,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pylon,
DNA,
Funky Four + One,
Intrusion,
Sandy B,
Oblivians,
Roy Ayers,
Soul Sonic Force,
Yellowson,
Anthony Braxton,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Faust,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Swell Maps,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tears for Fears,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Stooges,
Joyce Sims,
Camberwell Now,
Monolake,
F. McDonald,
Sixth Finger,
The Neon Judgement,
Absolute Body Control,
Bob Dylan,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Neu!,
The Grass Roots,
Amon Düül,
Rapeman,
Marvin Gaye,
Khruangbin,
Tom Boy,
Trumans Water,
Von Mondo,
Brand Nubian,
Wally Richardson,
Moss Icon,
Deakin,
Magma,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow, Henry Cow.
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.