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 Czech Republic and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Robert Hood to the grime 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 The Smoke. All the underground hits.
All John Cale tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 48th St. Collective 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Toasters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Spandau Ballet,
Robert Wyatt,
Warsaw,
Black Moon,
The Offenders,
Sixth Finger,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Birthday Party,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cymande,
KRS-One,
Tres Demented,
Kurtis Blow,
The Durutti Column,
Avey Tare,
The Golliwogs,
Cybotron,
Kayak,
The Dead C,
Skaos,
Mantronix,
Jawbox,
Dead Boys,
Babytalk,
MC5,
Crooked Eye,
Gil Scott Heron,
cv313,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Arthur Verocai,
The Dirtbombs,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Move,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Gap Band,
Alice Coltrane,
Vainqueur,
Maurizio,
Girls At Our Best!,
Connie Case,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Skriet,
Aloha Tigers,
Max Romeo,
Bluetip,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Young Marble Giants,
Interpol,
Sällskapet,
Cheater Slicks,
Joe Finger,
Judy Mowatt,
Big Daddy Kane,
Reuben Wilson,
Nils Olav,
Fugazi,
Johnny Osbourne,
Byron Stingily,
Y Pants,
New York Dolls,
Spoonie Gee,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.