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 Netherlands and from Columbus.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Malaria! 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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra Arkestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a John Cale 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?
Depeche Mode,
Y Pants,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Brand Nubian,
The Litter,
Public Enemy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Dawn Penn,
Audionom,
The Gladiators,
Harry Pussy,
Jimmy McGriff,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Minutemen,
Colin Newman,
The Residents,
Television Personalities,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Görl,
Boz Scaggs,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Suburban Knight,
Fatback Band,
Gang Starr,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Vogues,
Nas,
Alton Ellis,
Hasil Adkins,
Goldenarms,
The Martian,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Toni Rubio,
The Offenders,
Howard Jones,
Pantytec,
Mad Mike,
Lyres,
Flipper,
Con Funk Shun,
Black Bananas,
New Order,
The Raincoats,
Dave Gahan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobby Womack,
John Foxx,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Fugs,
The American Breed,
The Last Poets,
Fluxion,
Blake Baxter,
Marmalade,
Hot Snakes,
Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond, Marc Almond.
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.