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 Poland and from Philadelphia.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Louis and Bebe Barron to the funk 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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Boogie Down Productions,
the Sonics,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Pus,
Skarface,
Donny Hathaway,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Moebius,
Donald Byrd,
Procol Harum,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Fluxion,
B.T. Express,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sight & Sound,
Suicide,
The Fugs,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Sonics,
U.S. Maple,
Magma,
Prince Buster,
Ultimate Spinach,
Althea and Donna,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Malaria!,
Gang Green,
The Young Rascals,
Los Fastidios,
Chrome,
Monks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tubeway Army,
Basic Channel,
Blancmange,
Bob Dylan,
June of 44,
John Cale,
Deadbeat,
Silicon Teens,
This Heat,
Inner City,
Unrelated Segments,
Tomorrow,
The Golliwogs,
Josef K,
Bronski Beat,
AZ,
Crime,
L. Decosne,
Sixth Finger,
Cluster,
Popol Vuh,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fugazi,
Maleditus Sound,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Five Americans,
Young Marble Giants,
Kenny Larkin,
Lou Reed,
Minny Pops,
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.