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 Nicaragua and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Young Rascals. All the underground hits.
All The Blues Magoos tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust 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 theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lee Hazlewood,
The Grass Roots,
The Gladiators,
Absolute Body Control,
Derrick May,
Black Pus,
The Move,
Visage,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Surgeon,
Piero Umiliani,
Wally Richardson,
Eddi Front,
The Star Department,
Interpol,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Ultra Naté,
Freddie Wadling,
Marcia Griffiths,
Saccharine Trust,
The Dead C,
The Doors,
D'Angelo,
The Sound,
X-101,
Scott Walker,
Cal Tjader,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Grauzone,
B.T. Express,
Robert Görl,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sun Ra,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rufus Thomas,
The Moleskins,
Unrelated Segments,
Sandy B,
Brass Construction,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Mo-Dettes,
PIL,
Pulsallama,
Robert Wyatt,
Black Sheep,
Donald Byrd,
Fatback Band,
Index,
The Mojo Men,
The Standells,
Marmalade,
Ituana,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Swell Maps,
The Cowsills,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.