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 Iran and from Taipei.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Hoover to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Pierre Henry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Heaven 17,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Pere Ubu,
CMW,
Dawn Penn,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Malaria!,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Anakelly,
Kaleidoscope,
Roxy Music,
The Last Poets,
Sun Ra,
Cymande,
Robert Görl,
The Remains,
Duran Duran,
Procol Harum,
Grauzone,
The Dirtbombs,
Derrick Morgan,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kas Product,
Big Daddy Kane,
Wings,
Sister Nancy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sam Rivers,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Wire,
The Gladiators,
Kool Moe Dee,
Grey Daturas,
Brass Construction,
Jawbox,
Bill Near,
Ken Boothe,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Arthur Verocai,
Charles Mingus,
Royal Trux,
Skaos,
Sex Pistols,
the Normal,
Boz Scaggs,
Davy DMX,
Tubeway Army,
DNA,
Fear,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Soft Machine,
Yazoo,
Brick,
Isaac Hayes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Bronski Beat,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.