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 Slovenia and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 organ 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 Kevin Saunderson to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jesper Dahlback record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Slackers,
Bill Wells,
Fluxion,
Gastr Del Sol,
Scott Walker,
Ornette Coleman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marcia Griffiths,
Gong,
Moss Icon,
Gil Scott Heron,
Buzzcocks,
Faraquet,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Saints,
Jeff Lynne,
Juan Atkins,
Faust,
The Alarm Clocks,
Terrestrial Tones,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eurythmics,
The Residents,
Drexciya,
T.S.O.L.,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Fire Engines,
Slick Rick,
June of 44,
Barclay James Harvest,
Hot Snakes,
Sugar Minott,
Von Mondo,
In Retrospect,
Ten City,
The Skatalites,
The Techniques,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Clear Light,
Tom Boy,
Rapeman,
the Swans,
The Monochrome Set,
Tropical Tobacco,
Rekid,
The Index,
Wasted Youth,
Heaven 17,
Babytalk,
Ponytail,
Talk Talk,
Harpers Bizarre,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Marmalade,
Kenny Larkin,
Niagra,
The Victims,
The Wake,
Gregory Isaacs,
Minnie Riperton,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.