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 Sierra Leone and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 marimba 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 Shuggie Otis to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Young Marble Giants,
Infiniti,
Mad Mike,
Whodini,
Yellowson,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Morten Harket,
The Count Five,
June Days,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Robert Hood,
Susan Cadogan,
The Seeds,
Theoretical Girls,
The Shadows of Knight,
KRS-One,
The Doors,
cv313,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sister Nancy,
John Lydon,
Alison Limerick,
Cluster,
The Pretty Things,
Camouflage,
Amazonics,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Searchers,
Roy Ayers,
In Retrospect,
China Crisis,
The Offenders,
Rhythm & Sound,
Pylon,
Flipper,
Barrington Levy,
Fat Boys,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Public Enemy,
Wings,
Jeff Lynne,
Boogie Down Productions,
Dual Sessions,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Sheep,
Lalo Schifrin,
Quadrant,
Crispy Ambulance,
Porter Ricks,
Flamin' Groovies,
Ituana,
Eddi Front,
The Standells,
Quantec,
Mo-Dettes,
Panda Bear,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Smoke,
The Durutti Column,
Glenn Branca,
Gichy Dan,
Neu!, Neu!, Neu!, Neu!.
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.