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 Benin and from New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Rapeman to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Ultra Naté. All the underground hits.
All Bang On A Can tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
A Certain Ratio,
Wolf Eyes,
Hasil Adkins,
Groovy Waters,
Black Pus,
Schoolly D,
Rosa Yemen,
Scion,
Harpers Bizarre,
Q and Not U,
The New Christs,
Public Image Ltd.,
Scott Walker,
Byron Stingily,
The Blues Magoos,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
X-101,
Brothers Johnson,
UT,
Heaven 17,
Carl Craig,
Gerry Rafferty,
Roy Ayers,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Roger Hodgson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Saints,
DJ Style,
Cluster,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Barbara Tucker,
Scratch Acid,
The Young Rascals,
Joy Division,
Popol Vuh,
Ornette Coleman,
Anthony Braxton,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Gladiators,
Ponytail,
kango's stein massive,
Au Pairs,
The Remains,
Sonny Sharrock,
Smog,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
T.S.O.L.,
Spandau Ballet,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
ABC,
Eve St. Jones,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Tubeway Army,
Rufus Thomas,
This Heat,
Khruangbin,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Rites of Spring,
Bob Dylan,
Amazonics,
The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths, The Smiths.
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.