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 Austria and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angry Samoans to the grunge 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 Kurtis Blow. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
Minnie Riperton,
Iggy Pop,
Slick Rick,
Flash Fearless,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sam Rivers,
The Mojo Men,
Cheater Slicks,
The Stooges,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lindisfarne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Popol Vuh,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Chris & Cosey,
Audionom,
Rites of Spring,
Brass Construction,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sex Pistols,
Livin' Joy,
The Fortunes,
David McCallum,
T. Rex,
Gabor Szabo,
The Music Machine,
Camberwell Now,
Frankie Knuckles,
Television,
The Five Americans,
Nils Olav,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sound Behaviour,
Stiv Bators,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Monochrome Set,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Robert Görl,
Scrapy,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
La Düsseldorf,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kerrie Biddell,
June of 44,
The Move,
Bobby Byrd,
The Alarm Clocks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Jacques Brel,
The Selecter,
Black Flag,
The Smoke,
The Leaves,
Pere Ubu,
KRS-One,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.