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 United Kingdom and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 synthesizer 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 Marmalade to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sound Behaviour record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boz Scaggs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pulsallama,
Mark Hollis,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quadrant,
Cheater Slicks,
Skriet,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Bananas,
Rotary Connection,
The Buckinghams,
Suburban Knight,
World's Most,
Eve St. Jones,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lou Reed,
The Alarm Clocks,
Wire,
Kurtis Blow,
Angry Samoans,
Cameo,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Fall,
Smog,
Archie Shepp,
Can,
Joey Negro,
Ludus,
Massinfluence,
Yusef Lateef,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sandy B,
The Birthday Party,
Bobby Womack,
EPMD,
Howard Jones,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Josef K,
the Swans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Q and Not U,
X-101,
Slick Rick,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Selecter,
Pharoah Sanders,
Terrestrial Tones,
Leonard Cohen,
H. Thieme,
The Gun Club,
Gichy Dan,
Neil Young,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Thompson Twins,
Joe Smooth,
Circle Jerks,
Ponytail,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Franke,
Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor, Cecil Taylor.
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.