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 Portugal 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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 John Lydon to the dance 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
B.T. Express,
The Skatalites,
the Fania All-Stars,
Colin Newman,
Clear Light,
Reuben Wilson,
Scrapy,
Agitation Free,
Television Personalities,
Johnny Clarke,
Smog,
Eric Dolphy,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Walker Brothers,
Marshall Jefferson,
H. Thieme,
Blancmange,
Surgeon,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
the Swans,
MDC,
Altered Images,
Susan Cadogan,
Godley & Creme,
Thompson Twins,
La Düsseldorf,
Monolake,
Skriet,
Fat Boys,
Joey Negro,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Juan Atkins,
F. McDonald,
Procol Harum,
Bobbi Humphrey,
John Lydon,
The Monochrome Set,
X-101,
Sex Pistols,
Nirvana,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Fort Wilson Riot,
X-102,
Bobby Womack,
Amon Düül II,
Marmalade,
Bobby Byrd,
Brand Nubian,
Terry Callier,
Buzzcocks,
Bauhaus,
Byron Stingily,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Brick,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.