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 Jamaica and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 MDC. All the underground hits.
All The Cure tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aaron Thompson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
The Cowsills,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mr. Review,
Suicide,
Roxy Music,
The Dirtbombs,
The Victims,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fear,
Bad Manners,
Kenny Larkin,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Byron Stingily,
Suburban Knight,
Zapp,
Moebius,
Alphaville,
The Misunderstood,
Section 25,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Soulsonic Force,
Slick Rick,
Flipper,
Porter Ricks,
Tom Boy,
Ohio Players,
Skaos,
D'Angelo,
Urselle,
Scan 7,
Sun City Girls,
The Seeds,
The Raincoats,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Steve Hackett,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Scrapy,
Unrelated Segments,
cv313,
Sällskapet,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Zeros,
La Düsseldorf,
KRS-One,
Outsiders,
The Moleskins,
L. Decosne,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Severed Heads,
Mad Mike,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Susan Cadogan,
Los Fastidios,
Leonard Cohen,
Ultravox,
Ultimate Spinach,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Lower 48,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.