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 Romania and from Mumbai.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Tehran.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Stockholm Monsters to the rap 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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All The Cramps tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Davy DMX,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kurtis Blow,
The Offenders,
Ronan,
Vladislav Delay,
Severed Heads,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Donny Hathaway,
Qualms,
Babytalk,
Joey Negro,
Franke,
Freddie Wadling,
Lungfish,
Talk Talk,
The Raincoats,
Ultra Naté,
The Birthday Party,
Morten Harket,
Matthew Halsall,
T. Rex,
Scratch Acid,
The Last Poets,
The Black Dice,
Iggy Pop,
Television Personalities,
The United States of America,
Chrome,
The Gap Band,
Eric Copeland,
Spoonie Gee,
Bad Manners,
Hot Snakes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Faraquet,
Yellowson,
The Blues Magoos,
Pantytec,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Nik Kershaw,
Dave Gahan,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Happenings,
The Move,
Jawbox,
Man Eating Sloth,
Michelle Simonal,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Shadows of Knight,
Stockholm Monsters,
Barbara Tucker,
Tubeway Army,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Faust,
Todd Rundgren,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.