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 Luxembourg and from Manchester.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gerry Rafferty. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lungfish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 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 Unwound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Residents,
Adolescents,
Colin Newman,
La Düsseldorf,
Skriet,
Crooked Eye,
Brand Nubian,
The Monks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ice-T,
Popol Vuh,
Reuben Wilson,
Niagra,
Warsaw,
The Slackers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Smog,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gil Scott Heron,
X-Ray Spex,
Scratch Acid,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lou Christie,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Chris & Cosey,
ABC,
Jesper Dahlback,
Yellowson,
Shuggie Otis,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Accadde A,
D'Angelo,
T.S.O.L.,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Moebius,
Minny Pops,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Dirtbombs,
The Dead C,
One Last Wish,
Darondo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Rekid,
Radio Birdman,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rufus Thomas,
Maurizio,
Silicon Teens,
Siglo XX,
Lower 48,
The Happenings,
Unrelated Segments,
Iggy Pop,
Rhythm & Sound,
Soft Cell,
Infiniti,
The Neon Judgement,
These Immortal Souls,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.