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 Australia and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 clarinet 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 Black Bananas to the grime 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All The Remains tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fuzztones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Freddie Wadling,
Kayak,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lalann,
Bill Near,
Barrington Levy,
Johnny Osbourne,
The American Breed,
Rites of Spring,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Barbara Tucker,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Nils Olav,
Anakelly,
Rosa Yemen,
The Smiths,
Jacques Brel,
Mo-Dettes,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Supertramp,
Index,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mad Mike,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Franke,
Oneida,
Nation of Ulysses,
Von Mondo,
Cheater Slicks,
the Association,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
MDC,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Suicide,
Deadbeat,
The Walker Brothers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pharoah Sanders,
Y Pants,
the Swans,
Theoretical Girls,
Alton Ellis,
Gang of Four,
Donald Byrd,
KRS-One,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Brothers Johnson,
John Coltrane,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Kinks,
Skaos,
Pantytec,
The Neon Judgement,
The Cowsills,
the Slits,
Accadde A,
The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men, The Mojo Men.
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.