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 Bahamas and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Carl Craig to the rock 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 The Detroit Cobras. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Janne Schatter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Standells,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Malaria!,
The Music Machine,
The Saints,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Infiniti,
Vladislav Delay,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Vogues,
the Germs,
Graham Central Station,
Eric Dolphy,
Juan Atkins,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Procol Harum,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crispian St. Peters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Doobie Brothers,
D'Angelo,
Lou Reed,
Idris Muhammad,
The Grass Roots,
Surgeon,
Brick,
Anakelly,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
H. Thieme,
Negative Approach,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mr. Review,
DJ Sneak,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Janne Schatter,
Rufus Thomas,
Lebanon Hanover,
Buzzcocks,
Gang of Four,
Don Cherry,
The Gap Band,
Dead Boys,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
World's Most,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Chris & Cosey,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
June of 44,
Ultravox,
AZ,
Motorama,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Monolake,
The Gories,
The Move,
Skaos,
Oneida,
Circle Jerks,
Kerri Chandler,
Mission of Burma,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.