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 Laos and from Houston.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Sällskapet to the techno 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Electric Light Orchestra,
Guru Guru,
Das Ding,
Nik Kershaw,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Cowsills,
Franke,
Accadde A,
AZ,
Blake Baxter,
Anthony Braxton,
Scott Walker,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Count Five,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Lindisfarne,
Scratch Acid,
The Detroit Cobras,
Harry Pussy,
Mars,
Wasted Youth,
Marcia Griffiths,
Jacques Brel,
Gang Starr,
Al Stewart,
Arab on Radar,
Marvin Gaye,
Matthew Halsall,
Wings,
Bill Near,
Carl Craig,
Rekid,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Bananas,
Eric B and Rakim,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lee Hazlewood,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Charles Mingus,
Monolake,
Lakeside,
Grandmaster Flash,
Howard Jones,
Blossom Toes,
Angry Samoans,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rites of Spring,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fela Kuti,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dennis Brown,
Juan Atkins,
Janne Schatter,
Man Eating Sloth,
Kas Product,
Ronan,
The Monochrome Set,
The Move,
Flipper,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.