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 Congo and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Mexico City.
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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool Moe Dee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
Tim Buckley,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Unwound,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Derrick Morgan,
The Birthday Party,
Depeche Mode,
Black Moon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Monks,
Robert Wyatt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Reuben Wilson,
Rapeman,
The Skatalites,
Faraquet,
Brothers Johnson,
A Certain Ratio,
Byron Stingily,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Offenders,
Half Japanese,
Loose Ends,
Crispian St. Peters,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Martian,
Boz Scaggs,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Make Up,
AZ,
The Count Five,
Absolute Body Control,
the Germs,
Von Mondo,
The Grass Roots,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Spandau Ballet,
Smog,
John Cale,
Crash Course in Science,
The J.B.'s,
Josef K,
Theoretical Girls,
Jacques Brel,
Banda Bassotti,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Move,
the Slits,
The Alarm Clocks,
Big Daddy Kane,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Ossler,
Andrew Hill,
Au Pairs,
Iggy Pop,
Yazoo,
John Lydon,
The Raincoats,
Brand Nubian,
Arab on Radar,
The Stooges,
Underground Resistance,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.