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 Russia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 David Bowie 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 The Monochrome Set to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Animal Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cameo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T.S.O.L. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Bang On A Can,
Nas,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bluetip,
Icehouse,
The Red Krayola,
Schoolly D,
E-Dancer,
John Coltrane,
The Cramps,
Tim Buckley,
Soul Sonic Force,
Newcleus,
48th St. Collective,
The Martian,
The Mojo Men,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Erykah Badu,
Aswad,
Panda Bear,
Tres Demented,
Gong,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Wally Richardson,
Minnie Riperton,
The American Breed,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lightning Bolt,
Fela Kuti,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Smiths,
Pole,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Subhumans,
The Music Machine,
The Gories,
The Blackbyrds,
Josef K,
The Selecter,
Drive Like Jehu,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Beasts of Bourbon,
New Age Steppers,
Grauzone,
Donny Hathaway,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ultra Naté,
The Litter,
Underground Resistance,
Blossom Toes,
Black Flag,
Television Personalities,
Electric Prunes,
Average White Band,
Howard Jones,
Severed Heads,
Suburban Knight,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Zapp,
Marine Girls,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.