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 Ghana and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 güiro 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 Magma to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Halsall record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Charles Mingus,
The Saints,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
E-Dancer,
Crime,
Black Flag,
Andrew Hill,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fela Kuti,
Freddie Wadling,
Lyres,
Hoover,
Reagan Youth,
Pierre Henry,
Duran Duran,
China Crisis,
The Skatalites,
Soulsonic Force,
Public Enemy,
Funky Four + One,
Outsiders,
Girls At Our Best!,
Hardrive,
Erasure,
Minor Threat,
Nik Kershaw,
Harry Pussy,
Oneida,
X-101,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Camouflage,
DJ Sneak,
Kurtis Blow,
Hasil Adkins,
New Age Steppers,
Jerry's Kids,
Gang Starr,
Lungfish,
Arcadia,
Tres Demented,
Scott Walker,
Jawbox,
The Trojans,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Young Marble Giants,
Letta Mbulu,
Morten Harket,
David Axelrod,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ohio Players,
R.M.O.,
John Coltrane,
Los Fastidios,
The Black Dice,
The Wake,
Carl Craig,
Crispian St. Peters,
Slick Rick,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Gladiators,
U.S. Maple,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.