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 Antigua and from Columbus.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 808 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 AZ to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Saints,
Harmonia,
Jeff Mills,
The Selecter,
MC5,
Underground Resistance,
The Shadows of Knight,
Dead Boys,
The Gladiators,
Dark Day,
The Neon Judgement,
Country Teasers,
Can,
The Red Krayola,
Judy Mowatt,
Royal Trux,
Eric Copeland,
Porter Ricks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Barrington Levy,
Dave Gahan,
Maurizio,
D'Angelo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Gories,
The Flesh Eaters,
Spoonie Gee,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Doobie Brothers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
R.M.O.,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Isaac Hayes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Eric Dolphy,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Joyce Sims,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Carl Craig,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Tremeloes,
Symarip,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Chrome,
Ten City,
Sex Pistols,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Goldenarms,
Sam Rivers,
Pharoah Sanders,
Boredoms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Au Pairs,
Bootsy Collins,
The Residents,
Al Stewart,
Sandy B,
Youth Brigade,
Audionom,
Derrick May,
The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets, The Last Poets.
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.