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 Lesotho and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Excepter to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Raincoats,
Blossom Toes,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Gabor Szabo,
Arthur Verocai,
The Invisible,
Thee Headcoats,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ossler,
Albert Ayler,
Juan Atkins,
The Kinks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Kevin Saunderson,
Blake Baxter,
Lalann,
The Happenings,
Magazine,
Tropical Tobacco,
Nick Fraelich,
Jerry's Kids,
Reagan Youth,
Henry Cow,
James White and The Blacks,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Brand Nubian,
The Dead C,
Archie Shepp,
Tres Demented,
Nico,
Pylon,
Delta 5,
Unrelated Segments,
John Foxx,
The Standells,
Todd Rundgren,
Ultravox,
Barclay James Harvest,
Erasure,
Eddi Front,
Pierre Henry,
Minny Pops,
Blancmange,
Kurtis Blow,
The Misunderstood,
Jimmy McGriff,
Zapp,
Bobby Womack,
Ken Boothe,
Inner City,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Monks,
B.T. Express,
UT,
Brick,
Alison Limerick,
Michelle Simonal,
Rekid,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gang Starr,
Roxy Music,
Minnie Riperton,
Yazoo,
Alphaville,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.