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 South Sudan and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator 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 The Martian to the rap 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 Warsaw. All the underground hits.
All Sly & The Family Stone tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jimmy McGriff record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
F. McDonald,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Residents,
Y Pants,
The Dirtbombs,
The Evens,
Mary Jane Girls,
Joyce Sims,
Avey Tare,
Stockholm Monsters,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Fela Kuti,
Panda Bear,
Unrelated Segments,
Al Stewart,
the Normal,
The Grass Roots,
Electric Prunes,
ABC,
Don Cherry,
The Knickerbockers,
The Doors,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Smoke,
Ultravox,
Crash Course in Science,
Tommy Roe,
James White and The Blacks,
Kaleidoscope,
Make Up,
Wings,
Glambeats Corp.,
Nas,
The Gladiators,
Traffic Nightmare,
Subhumans,
Alton Ellis,
Trumans Water,
Television,
Kevin Saunderson,
Depeche Mode,
Barry Ungar,
Marine Girls,
Con Funk Shun,
Ornette Coleman,
Simply Red,
Audionom,
The Litter,
Moss Icon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Model 500,
Donald Byrd,
Black Moon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The American Breed,
The Leaves,
Juan Atkins,
Heaven 17,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.