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 Sudan and from Portland.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Nick Fraelich to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Excepter. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Circle Jerks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Average White Band,
Vainqueur,
Can,
Radiohead,
The Zeros,
Idris Muhammad,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
X-Ray Spex,
The Fuzztones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Chrome,
Suicide,
Judy Mowatt,
Black Bananas,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Mojo Men,
ABC,
The Move,
Mary Jane Girls,
the Soft Cell,
Drexciya,
Delta 5,
Half Japanese,
Scrapy,
Derrick May,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joe Finger,
Connie Case,
Rites of Spring,
Motorama,
Dark Day,
Arcadia,
Robert Hood,
Maurizio,
Organ,
Ossler,
The Techniques,
The Martian,
Animal Collective,
Absolute Body Control,
The Skatalites,
Von Mondo,
MC5,
Smog,
Babytalk,
Lungfish,
The Seeds,
Boz Scaggs,
Fluxion,
China Crisis,
Model 500,
Procol Harum,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Reuben Wilson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Slackers,
Alison Limerick,
The Victims,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.