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 Indonesia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 mellotron 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 Mr. Review to the grunge 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
June Days,
X-Ray Spex,
kango's stein massive,
A Certain Ratio,
F. McDonald,
Amon Düül,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Niagra,
Country Teasers,
Pole,
The Mojo Men,
Index,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Barracudas,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Rites of Spring,
The Blackbyrds,
Nas,
John Lydon,
Angry Samoans,
John Foxx,
The Move,
Barrington Levy,
The Vogues,
Quadrant,
Lucky Dragons,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Piero Umiliani,
Minnie Riperton,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Big Daddy Kane,
Clear Light,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Soft Cell,
Fad Gadget,
The Moody Blues,
Mary Jane Girls,
June of 44,
Stiv Bators,
Gastr Del Sol,
Monks,
Joensuu 1685,
Chris Corsano,
Pussy Galore,
The Electric Prunes,
The Gap Band,
Technova,
B.T. Express,
Mantronix,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Doors,
The Flesh Eaters,
Brothers Johnson,
Moss Icon,
The Zeros,
The Walker Brothers,
Mo-Dettes,
Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's, Ultramagnetic MC's.
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.