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 Cambodia and from Bologna.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Glasgow.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Glambeats Corp. to the rock 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 Flesh Eaters. All the underground hits.
All Traffic Nightmare tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cabaret Voltaire record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sight & Sound,
Donny Hathaway,
The Angels of Light,
U.S. Maple,
Model 500,
Jacob Miller,
Hot Snakes,
The Knickerbockers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
the Normal,
The Dirtbombs,
Young Marble Giants,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Chris Corsano,
Chris & Cosey,
Man Parrish,
The Standells,
Michelle Simonal,
Bobby Womack,
Erykah Badu,
The Buckinghams,
Crispy Ambulance,
Cheater Slicks,
Blossom Toes,
X-101,
Clear Light,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Terrestrial Tones,
Heaven 17,
Lakeside,
Whodini,
The Walker Brothers,
The American Breed,
Echospace,
Electric Prunes,
Robert Wyatt,
Pere Ubu,
Sound Behaviour,
The Shadows of Knight,
Intrusion,
The Mummies,
Angry Samoans,
Mo-Dettes,
Sister Nancy,
Gong,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Khruangbin,
Hashim,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
the Germs,
Joensuu 1685,
Ituana,
the Sonics,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Groovy Waters,
The Skatalites,
Ken Boothe,
Dark Day,
Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick, Alison Limerick.
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.