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 Egypt and from Accra.
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 Halifax and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Amon Düül II to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Metal Thangz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Machine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Audionom,
A Certain Ratio,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roxette,
Prince Buster,
Aloha Tigers,
Warsaw,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Hot Snakes,
Alice Coltrane,
Quando Quango,
Glenn Branca,
Bob Dylan,
K-Klass,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tommy Roe,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
X-101,
Camouflage,
Erasure,
The Standells,
Von Mondo,
Godley & Creme,
Aaron Thompson,
Dead Boys,
Rapeman,
H. Thieme,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Happenings,
Crooked Eye,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Steve Hackett,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Main Source,
Judy Mowatt,
Youth Brigade,
The Beau Brummels,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Chrome,
The Alarm Clocks,
Liliput,
Pagans,
Sugar Minott,
Heaven 17,
The Sound,
Max Romeo,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Todd Rundgren,
Cameo,
Isaac Hayes,
Goldenarms,
Marshall Jefferson,
Procol Harum,
Marine Girls,
Desert Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
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.