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 Yemen and from Calgary.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Country Teasers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Busters 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Durutti Column,
Dark Day,
Camouflage,
The Slackers,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ice-T,
Connie Case,
Talk Talk,
Lou Christie,
Visage,
Cecil Taylor,
Rosa Yemen,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Echospace,
Prince Buster,
Barry Ungar,
Vainqueur,
John Cale,
Sugar Minott,
The Stooges,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Human League,
Jeff Mills,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Blake Baxter,
World's Most,
Delta 5,
Freddie Wadling,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Smoke,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Suburban Knight,
Panda Bear,
Robert Hood,
Niagra,
DNA,
Porter Ricks,
the Sonics,
Sex Pistols,
The Martian,
Jacques Brel,
Severed Heads,
Mark Hollis,
Babytalk,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Mission of Burma,
Wire,
Ituana,
Unrelated Segments,
Sound Behaviour,
Moby Grape,
Eric Dolphy,
Icehouse,
The Offenders,
The Angels of Light,
Oneida,
Bobby Womack,
Gang Starr,
Gang Gang Dance,
Buzzcocks,
Heaven 17,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.