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 Malawi and from Taipei.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the organ 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 Robert Hood to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Index tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DNA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roger Hodgson,
K-Klass,
The Fugs,
Deepchord,
the Germs,
John Cale,
Shuggie Otis,
Dave Gahan,
Ponytail,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Colin Newman,
10cc,
Siglo XX,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
JFA,
Sonny Sharrock,
Magazine,
The Dead C,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tres Demented,
Joe Smooth,
Country Teasers,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jeff Mills,
Loose Ends,
Brand Nubian,
Hot Snakes,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Reuben Wilson,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Gories,
The Residents,
Eve St. Jones,
Skaos,
The Fuzztones,
Dorothy Ashby,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pantaleimon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Leonard Cohen,
Silicon Teens,
Andrew Hill,
Mars,
Lou Christie,
The Slackers,
The Evens,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eddi Front,
Todd Terry,
The Durutti Column,
Judy Mowatt,
Graham Central Station,
Alton Ellis,
the Swans,
Magma,
The Kinks,
Piero Umiliani,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.