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 Sri Lanka and from Accra.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bush Tetras to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Velvet Underground record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Michelle Simonal,
Josef K,
Trumans Water,
Siglo XX,
Ronnie Foster,
Ohio Players,
Wally Richardson,
Throbbing Gristle,
Charles Mingus,
Sister Nancy,
Mission of Burma,
Circle Jerks,
B.T. Express,
Yazoo,
Scott Walker,
Brothers Johnson,
Marvin Gaye,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Monks,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
R.M.O.,
The Martian,
Radiohead,
Skaos,
Eric Dolphy,
Livin' Joy,
Peter and Kerry,
The Dave Clark Five,
Terrestrial Tones,
La Düsseldorf,
Eden Ahbez,
Blossom Toes,
Deakin,
48th St. Collective,
The Associates,
Animal Collective,
Q and Not U,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Thee Headcoats,
Parry Music,
David McCallum,
Can,
Rites of Spring,
Scion,
The Sonics,
Davy DMX,
John Foxx,
Black Pus,
Soul II Soul,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
E-Dancer,
Fluxion,
Quadrant,
Organ,
Fear,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crash Course in Science,
The Misunderstood,
Scrapy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Skriet,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry.
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.