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 Suriname and from Milan.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Rufus Thomas to the rock 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Subhumans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Freddie Wadling,
Television,
Mandrill,
Lightning Bolt,
Rapeman,
Rites of Spring,
Minutemen,
Carl Craig,
Goldenarms,
Joensuu 1685,
Wally Richardson,
Jeff Mills,
Amon Düül,
Unwound,
Davy DMX,
Rotary Connection,
Bobby Byrd,
Tears for Fears,
Robert Wyatt,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Roger Hodgson,
Hasil Adkins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lucky Dragons,
Suburban Knight,
Cymande,
The Velvet Underground,
Juan Atkins,
The Dave Clark Five,
Swell Maps,
Kerri Chandler,
Brass Construction,
The Gories,
Quando Quango,
The Slackers,
Black Sheep,
The Leaves,
Jimmy McGriff,
Radiohead,
Bang On A Can,
Talk Talk,
Scott Walker,
Sound Behaviour,
Ultra Naté,
Supertramp,
Black Moon,
the Sonics,
Wings,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Tremeloes,
DJ Sneak,
Bobby Womack,
D'Angelo,
Mad Mike,
Curtis Mayfield,
Peter and Kerry,
John Coltrane,
The Standells,
Stiv Bators,
Tommy Roe,
Infiniti,
Colin Newman,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.