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 United States and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 clarinet 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 Laurel Aitken to the techno 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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
The Beau Brummels,
Mandrill,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Pretty Things,
Soul II Soul,
Suburban Knight,
Flipper,
Babytalk,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Icehouse,
Neu!,
Swell Maps,
The Last Poets,
Index,
The Searchers,
John Cale,
The Busters,
Fela Kuti,
Tim Buckley,
Loose Ends,
Althea and Donna,
Drive Like Jehu,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tomorrow,
the Normal,
The Birthday Party,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Radio Birdman,
Motorama,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Slackers,
Albert Ayler,
Ohio Players,
Mantronix,
Quadrant,
cv313,
The Happenings,
Funky Four + One,
Eddi Front,
The Electric Prunes,
Lower 48,
Roy Ayers,
Banda Bassotti,
48th St. Collective,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
B.T. Express,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Juan Atkins,
JFA,
Mission of Burma,
Newcleus,
A Certain Ratio,
Sixth Finger,
X-102,
H. Thieme,
Desert Stars,
Jandek,
Stockholm Monsters,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Livin' Joy,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.