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 Vanuatu and from Portland.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the organ 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 David Bowie to the dance 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 New Age Steppers. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pantaleimon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James Chance & The Contortions record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
The Fortunes,
The Smiths,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Babytalk,
Fugazi,
Toni Rubio,
Mantronix,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Standells,
The Trojans,
Index,
Franke,
The Moleskins,
Nas,
The Tremeloes,
Darondo,
Public Enemy,
Maurizio,
F. McDonald,
Scion,
Siglo XX,
Prince Buster,
Circle Jerks,
Warsaw,
Scan 7,
The Blues Magoos,
Lakeside,
Underground Resistance,
the Normal,
The Music Machine,
The United States of America,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gang Green,
Albert Ayler,
Ossler,
Sällskapet,
Matthew Bourne,
Soul Sonic Force,
Nik Kershaw,
Suburban Knight,
Alphaville,
Rotary Connection,
Big Daddy Kane,
Whodini,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Invisible,
Von Mondo,
DJ Style,
Maleditus Sound,
Con Funk Shun,
X-102,
Gregory Isaacs,
Laurel Aitken,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
John Foxx,
Eddi Front,
the Swans,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.