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 Kazakhstan and from Paris.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Doobie Brothers to the grime 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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kenny Larkin,
Sam Rivers,
June Days,
Angry Samoans,
The Divine Comedy,
The Durutti Column,
Lungfish,
Joy Division,
Oblivians,
the Normal,
Minnie Riperton,
Frankie Knuckles,
Pantytec,
Soft Machine,
Hashim,
Clear Light,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Siglo XX,
X-101,
Sight & Sound,
Junior Murvin,
The Pretty Things,
The Kinks,
Gastr Del Sol,
Q65,
Schoolly D,
The Invisible,
Vainqueur,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Buzzcocks,
Radio Birdman,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Blancmange,
Young Marble Giants,
The Gap Band,
Rakim,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cabaret Voltaire,
This Heat,
Lyres,
Delta 5,
Scientists,
The Motions,
Unrelated Segments,
The Real Kids,
Sällskapet,
Todd Rundgren,
The Smiths,
New York Dolls,
Pet Shop Boys,
Andrew Hill,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mark Hollis,
H. Thieme,
Bluetip,
Moss Icon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Harry Pussy,
Thee Headcoats,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Skaos,
Hasil Adkins,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.