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 Togo and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 rhodes 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 Warren Ellis 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All The American Breed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Dark Day,
Siglo XX,
Quando Quango,
Grey Daturas,
The Cowsills,
The Stooges,
The Names,
Morten Harket,
Howard Jones,
Smog,
Babytalk,
Bill Wells,
Juan Atkins,
The Misunderstood,
Maurizio,
Jacob Miller,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Moebius,
Althea and Donna,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Black Moon,
Bobby Sherman,
Nas,
Mark Hollis,
The Move,
Roxette,
Cluster,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Thee Headcoats,
Deepchord,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Goldenarms,
John Lydon,
The Seeds,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Dirtbombs,
Traffic Nightmare,
Public Enemy,
Prince Buster,
Absolute Body Control,
Lee Hazlewood,
Country Teasers,
The Selecter,
Wolf Eyes,
Bang On A Can,
Loose Ends,
Make Up,
B.T. Express,
Ten City,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Crispian St. Peters,
Aaron Thompson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Radio Birdman,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slits,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Nico,
Ultra Naté,
Marmalade,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.