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 Rwanda and from Delhi.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Glasgow.
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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 Judy Mowatt to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Remains. All the underground hits.
All Kenny Larkin tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Sherman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Yellowson,
Charles Mingus,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Leaves,
The Sound,
Rapeman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crispian St. Peters,
Bob Dylan,
Ronan,
Bobby Sherman,
The Motions,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
the Swans,
The Stooges,
Scrapy,
Alice Coltrane,
Index,
Little Man,
Robert Hood,
DJ Sneak,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Thee Headcoats,
Althea and Donna,
Bush Tetras,
Duran Duran,
Panda Bear,
Johnny Clarke,
Pere Ubu,
The United States of America,
Alphaville,
The Five Americans,
Radiohead,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Moby Grape,
Traffic Nightmare,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Pretty Things,
Liliput,
Flamin' Groovies,
cv313,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Porter Ricks,
The Red Krayola,
Guru Guru,
Average White Band,
the Human League,
Eric B and Rakim,
Scion,
Camouflage,
Sound Behaviour,
The Star Department,
Lee Hazlewood,
Eden Ahbez,
T.S.O.L.,
New Order,
Dawn Penn,
Pussy Galore,
Black Pus,
Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant, Quadrant.
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.