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 Cyprus and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra to the funk 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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All Tubeway Army tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Altered Images 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pantaleimon,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aural Exciters,
The Martian,
Das Ding,
Newcleus,
Cheater Slicks,
Nils Olav,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Michelle Simonal,
The Pop Group,
Cecil Taylor,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Janne Schatter,
Cybotron,
Barclay James Harvest,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Eden Ahbez,
Albert Ayler,
Ossler,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Royal Trux,
Scott Walker,
The Moody Blues,
Swell Maps,
Audionom,
Marmalade,
Soft Machine,
Fela Kuti,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Underground Resistance,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pagans,
Spandau Ballet,
Jeru the Damaja,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Litter,
Minor Threat,
Country Teasers,
Crispian St. Peters,
T. Rex,
Soulsonic Force,
Joey Negro,
The Evens,
CMW,
Carl Craig,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Glambeats Corp.,
Harmonia,
Colin Newman,
Talk Talk,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sonny Sharrock,
Scan 7,
Piero Umiliani,
Simply Red,
Anakelly,
The Slits, The Slits, The Slits, The Slits.
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.