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 Pakistan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Johannesburg.
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 sitar 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 Zapp to the rock 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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Faraquet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Hood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Angry Samoans,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Henry Cow,
The Last Poets,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sparks,
Lalann,
Quantec,
Skarface,
Charles Mingus,
Hoover,
Grey Daturas,
Danielle Patucci,
Intrusion,
Joe Finger,
10cc,
Ossler,
Josef K,
Marine Girls,
Average White Band,
Echospace,
Altered Images,
Simply Red,
Rakim,
Janne Schatter,
The Monochrome Set,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cluster,
Aaron Thompson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Albert Ayler,
OOIOO,
The Moleskins,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lungfish,
Visage,
The Smoke,
Mars,
Los Fastidios,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Severed Heads,
Electric Light Orchestra,
John Cale,
Jimmy McGriff,
X-Ray Spex,
Boredoms,
Joey Negro,
The Doobie Brothers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Leaves,
Urselle,
Man Parrish,
Cecil Taylor,
Roger Hodgson,
Shuggie Otis,
The Flesh Eaters,
Porter Ricks,
The Gladiators,
Oneida,
Thee Headcoats,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.