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 Singapore and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Glambeats Corp. to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry Gold Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Terrestrial Tones,
Desert Stars,
Moss Icon,
The Black Dice,
Blossom Toes,
Groovy Waters,
Harry Pussy,
Big Daddy Kane,
Shoche,
the Soft Cell,
Eddi Front,
Blake Baxter,
Dave Gahan,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Donald Byrd,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pere Ubu,
Glenn Branca,
Tropical Tobacco,
Ossler,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Yaz,
Pierre Henry,
Piero Umiliani,
The Vogues,
Skarface,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Slackers,
The Monks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Alarm Clocks,
Girls At Our Best!,
Deepchord,
Scratch Acid,
MDC,
Arab on Radar,
The Mummies,
Alton Ellis,
Colin Newman,
Dead Boys,
Mission of Burma,
Neil Young,
Gang of Four,
David McCallum,
CMW,
Lebanon Hanover,
Gang Green,
One Last Wish,
Rod Modell,
Albert Ayler,
Laurel Aitken,
The Barracudas,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Agent Orange,
Fela Kuti,
Anthony Braxton,
DJ Sneak,
The New Christs,
The Flesh Eaters,
Bronski Beat,
Jacob Miller,
Bluetip,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, Richard Hell and the Voidoids.
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.