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 Qatar and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 John Cale to the punk 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 Blancmange. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gabor Szabo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
La Düsseldorf,
Sister Nancy,
Slave,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Invisible,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Althea and Donna,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Dirtbombs,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Black Dice,
Second Layer,
Minny Pops,
Frankie Knuckles,
Surgeon,
Idris Muhammad,
The Saints,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Offenders,
Terry Callier,
The Doors,
The Beau Brummels,
Lucky Dragons,
Bobby Sherman,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Lebanon Hanover,
Man Parrish,
Oblivians,
The Durutti Column,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fluxion,
The Young Rascals,
Faraquet,
K-Klass,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Newcleus,
New York Dolls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Harpers Bizarre,
Q and Not U,
The Slackers,
The Electric Prunes,
Connie Case,
Pole,
Dennis Brown,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Sonics,
The Mummies,
Yaz,
John Cale,
Fear,
The Monks,
Trumans Water,
Barbara Tucker,
Flipper,
The Kinks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Colin Newman,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.