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 Belize and from Johannesburg.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 New York Dolls 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 Masters at Work. All the underground hits.
All Wings tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marine Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Detroit Cobras,
Gang Starr,
These Immortal Souls,
Agent Orange,
Rapeman,
John Lydon,
The United States of America,
the Human League,
Eric Copeland,
The New Christs,
Howard Jones,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Kayak,
Royal Trux,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Essential Logic,
Theoretical Girls,
Harry Pussy,
The Wake,
D'Angelo,
Make Up,
Bootsy Collins,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Radiopuhelimet,
Pharoah Sanders,
ABBA,
OOIOO,
Bad Manners,
Underground Resistance,
Fela Kuti,
JFA,
The Leaves,
Animal Collective,
Jandek,
EPMD,
Crooked Eye,
The Selecter,
Gil Scott Heron,
Fear,
Nico,
The Names,
Faust,
FM Einheit,
Crispy Ambulance,
Albert Ayler,
Neu!,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lalann,
Excepter,
Vladislav Delay,
Jeff Mills,
Reuben Wilson,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Soft Machine,
Juan Atkins,
Mantronix,
Mad Mike,
Second Layer,
Mary Jane Girls,
Skaos, Skaos, Skaos, Skaos.
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.