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 Portland.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angels of Light to the crunk 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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Theoretical Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Raincoats,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sam Rivers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Leonard Cohen,
Grandmaster Flash,
Y Pants,
Monks,
Zapp,
The Grass Roots,
Derrick May,
Depeche Mode,
One Last Wish,
Arcadia,
Average White Band,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Trumans Water,
Barbara Tucker,
Thompson Twins,
Jesper Dahlback,
Underground Resistance,
The Evens,
The Index,
June of 44,
Glenn Branca,
Roxy Music,
Johnny Clarke,
David McCallum,
Banda Bassotti,
The Offenders,
Section 25,
The Electric Prunes,
Slick Rick,
ABBA,
Grauzone,
Soft Cell,
The Black Dice,
Pussy Galore,
Basic Channel,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Warren Ellis,
David Bowie,
Fatback Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Sound,
Bill Wells,
Audionom,
Hasil Adkins,
The Blackbyrds,
Byron Stingily,
The Beau Brummels,
Skarface,
Piero Umiliani,
Anakelly,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones, Eve St. Jones.
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.