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 Ecuador and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eden Ahbez to the dance 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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sister Nancy 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Iggy Pop record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Henry Cow,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Jesper Dahlback,
Suicide,
Lindisfarne,
Harry Pussy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Colin Newman,
Trumans Water,
The United States of America,
Todd Terry,
Terrestrial Tones,
Tubeway Army,
Chrome,
Bill Wells,
Spandau Ballet,
Cecil Taylor,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Little Man,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Scan 7,
Marine Girls,
Morten Harket,
Pet Shop Boys,
Ponytail,
The Buckinghams,
Roger Hodgson,
Black Sheep,
Mars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Lucky Dragons,
The Names,
Royal Trux,
Jeru the Damaja,
Fela Kuti,
The Evens,
Mad Mike,
Ornette Coleman,
Fat Boys,
Alison Limerick,
Organ,
Theoretical Girls,
Aswad,
Matthew Bourne,
Derrick Morgan,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Gladiators,
Tommy Roe,
Sonny Sharrock,
Shuggie Otis,
Cluster,
Lalann,
Swans,
Marcia Griffiths,
Angry Samoans,
The Angels of Light,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
David Bowie,
Skriet,
Echospace,
Magma, Magma, Magma, Magma.
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.