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 Azerbaijan and from Tehran.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Angry Samoans to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Reagan Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Index record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ludus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cluster,
Deepchord,
X-102,
Girls At Our Best!,
Y Pants,
Gang Starr,
Neu!,
Wings,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fela Kuti,
Radiohead,
The Gories,
The Cowsills,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Modern Lovers,
Mark Hollis,
The Moody Blues,
Jeff Lynne,
The Seeds,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Jesper Dahlback,
Monks,
Qualms,
The Invisible,
Carl Craig,
Moebius,
Aural Exciters,
Joe Smooth,
John Foxx,
The Black Dice,
H. Thieme,
Circle Jerks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Eli Mardock,
The Misunderstood,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jeru the Damaja,
T.S.O.L.,
Pussy Galore,
Sandy B,
Morten Harket,
The Detroit Cobras,
Con Funk Shun,
The Wake,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Monolake,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bobby Byrd,
Guru Guru,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Green,
Japan,
Tropical Tobacco,
Deadbeat,
Sex Pistols,
Sixth Finger,
Negative Approach,
Letta Mbulu,
Lower 48,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.