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 Denmark and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 H. Thieme to the funk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Fall. All the underground hits.
All Rod Modell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Negative Approach 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 linndrum and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Arthur Verocai,
Aural Exciters,
Guru Guru,
The Birthday Party,
Tim Buckley,
Prince Buster,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Cowsills,
Vladislav Delay,
The Monochrome Set,
Lightning Bolt,
Eden Ahbez,
The Real Kids,
Surgeon,
Con Funk Shun,
Harry Pussy,
John Lydon,
Arcadia,
Nas,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Steve Hackett,
Desert Stars,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wally Richardson,
The United States of America,
The Happenings,
Average White Band,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Eric Copeland,
Stetsasonic,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lungfish,
Rapeman,
Juan Atkins,
Blake Baxter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lou Christie,
Sun City Girls,
Moby Grape,
Scientists,
Kevin Saunderson,
Moss Icon,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Joey Negro,
Jerry Gold Smith,
B.T. Express,
The Toasters,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Reuben Wilson,
The Slackers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Kurtis Blow,
Hoover,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
X-102,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Max Romeo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Althea and Donna,
La Düsseldorf,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.