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 Guinea-Bissau and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the snare 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 Country Joe & The Fish 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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All Ludus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
Chris Corsano,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Pere Ubu,
DNA,
Icehouse,
June Days,
Aaron Thompson,
Sixth Finger,
The Busters,
Robert Wyatt,
Dark Day,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jeff Lynne,
Kevin Saunderson,
Janne Schatter,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Toasters,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Sonics,
Scientists,
the Association,
Todd Terry,
Massinfluence,
The Beau Brummels,
Eden Ahbez,
Pole,
Japan,
T. Rex,
Sarah Menescal,
Scan 7,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Funky Four + One,
Aswad,
Barrington Levy,
James White and The Blacks,
The Residents,
Surgeon,
Man Parrish,
Peter & Gordon,
Animal Collective,
Marine Girls,
The Five Americans,
Eddi Front,
Deakin,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Terrestrial Tones,
Harry Pussy,
Cameo,
Country Teasers,
Interpol,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Durutti Column,
John Coltrane,
Bobby Womack,
The Moody Blues,
Moby Grape,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Lakeside,
Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh, Popol Vuh.
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.