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 Algeria and from Edmonton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 kango's stein massive to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Richard Hell and the Voidoids. All the underground hits.
All Deakin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Smog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Traffic Nightmare record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Hood,
The Zeros,
Organ,
Toni Rubio,
Ultravox,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pulsallama,
Steve Hackett,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Janne Schatter,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Litter,
Aural Exciters,
The Busters,
L. Decosne,
Fear,
Jacques Brel,
The Index,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Flipper,
Funkadelic,
The Velvet Underground,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Soul II Soul,
Donald Byrd,
The Moleskins,
Kenny Larkin,
Dual Sessions,
Black Pus,
Angry Samoans,
Monks,
Bronski Beat,
Joy Division,
Lungfish,
Das Ding,
Gang Green,
H. Thieme,
The Mummies,
Slave,
The Dirtbombs,
Yazoo,
Pierre Henry,
Bad Manners,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gang Gang Dance,
Max Romeo,
Danielle Patucci,
Sugar Minott,
In Retrospect,
Ituana,
The Victims,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Vogues,
Bootsy Collins,
Eve St. Jones,
ABBA,
Procol Harum,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.