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 Czech Republic and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Lagos.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Lightning Bolt to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))). All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moby Grape 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 snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Fluxion,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mark Hollis,
Arthur Verocai,
Minor Threat,
The Remains,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Pussy Galore,
Can,
The Dave Clark Five,
Second Layer,
the Sonics,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Blackbyrds,
Leonard Cohen,
Jeff Mills,
Suburban Knight,
PIL,
JFA,
Max Romeo,
Rapeman,
Blancmange,
Isaac Hayes,
Soulsonic Force,
Ohio Players,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Moon,
The Toasters,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cluster,
Nico,
Smog,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sällskapet,
Country Teasers,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kas Product,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Raincoats,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scott Walker,
Ronnie Foster,
Ralphi Rosario,
Grauzone,
Motorama,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marshall Jefferson,
Tres Demented,
Ultra Naté,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Scion,
The Sonics,
Popol Vuh,
Camberwell Now,
Rekid,
Warsaw,
Drive Like Jehu,
Delta 5,
Agitation Free,
Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare, Avey Tare.
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.