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 Singapore and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes 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 The Residents to the electroclash 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 Scion. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mr. Review 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Searchers,
John Coltrane,
Youth Brigade,
Warren Ellis,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Quando Quango,
Prince Buster,
Suicide,
Jacob Miller,
FM Einheit,
Pulsallama,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Terrestrial Tones,
B.T. Express,
The Moody Blues,
Soft Cell,
Monolake,
Black Flag,
The Count Five,
Aswad,
Dark Day,
Kaleidoscope,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Unrelated Segments,
Anakelly,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Misunderstood,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Standells,
Pussy Galore,
the Swans,
The Slits,
Schoolly D,
Sight & Sound,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Toasters,
LL Cool J,
Guru Guru,
Can,
Don Cherry,
Trumans Water,
Sam Rivers,
Althea and Donna,
The Gladiators,
Robert Görl,
The Vogues,
Nirvana,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Porter Ricks,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wally Richardson,
Mantronix,
Audionom,
DNA,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Accadde A,
Grandmaster Flash,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Doors,
Anthony Braxton,
Ornette Coleman,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.