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 Moldova 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 1962 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Zeros. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Carl Craig 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Brothers Johnson,
EPMD,
Maleditus Sound,
Slick Rick,
Kenny Larkin,
James White and The Blacks,
The Fuzztones,
The Black Dice,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tropical Tobacco,
Malaria!,
Cybotron,
Tomorrow,
Dave Gahan,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Swell Maps,
The Cramps,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Ten City,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Suicide,
Von Mondo,
The Happenings,
B.T. Express,
Todd Rundgren,
Roger Hodgson,
Donny Hathaway,
The Angels of Light,
Drexciya,
Hasil Adkins,
The Offenders,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kevin Saunderson,
Rosa Yemen,
The Remains,
The Walker Brothers,
Deepchord,
Khruangbin,
Joey Negro,
Ossler,
Terry Callier,
OOIOO,
The Mummies,
Vainqueur,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Letta Mbulu,
Erykah Badu,
Jawbox,
This Heat,
Chris & Cosey,
Moby Grape,
Scan 7,
Byron Stingily,
The Fortunes,
Altered Images,
Jacques Brel,
Scratch Acid,
The Associates,
Barry Ungar,
Robert Görl,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers, De La Soul & Jungle Brothers.
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.