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 Serbia and from Philadelphia.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin 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 Ronnie Foster to the jazz 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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlback tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith 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 mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Hot Snakes,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Lucky Dragons,
The Sonics,
Peter and Kerry,
Rekid,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gerry Rafferty,
Eric Dolphy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Buzzcocks,
Minny Pops,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Agent Orange,
Smog,
Adolescents,
Theoretical Girls,
The Cure,
Amon Düül II,
Cheater Slicks,
Scion,
Unwound,
ABBA,
The Blues Magoos,
Mantronix,
Todd Rundgren,
John Coltrane,
Faraquet,
The Durutti Column,
Dual Sessions,
The Victims,
Judy Mowatt,
Max Romeo,
Marc Almond,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Anthony Braxton,
D'Angelo,
The Martian,
Cybotron,
The Moody Blues,
Barclay James Harvest,
John Lydon,
Little Man,
Scott Walker,
Freddie Wadling,
Porter Ricks,
David Axelrod,
Eyeless In Gaza,
David McCallum,
Letta Mbulu,
The Fall,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Young Rascals,
Mr. Review,
MC5,
Schoolly D,
Section 25,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders, Pharoah Sanders.
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.