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 Malta and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Delon & Dalcan to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All Outsiders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tubeway Army record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scion,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Todd Terry,
Steve Hackett,
Suicide,
Minutemen,
The Sound,
Letta Mbulu,
48th St. Collective,
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Flash Fearless,
Vladislav Delay,
The Monochrome Set,
Fatback Band,
World's Most,
Jeff Lynne,
John Coltrane,
Whodini,
Tom Boy,
Adolescents,
Amazonics,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Icehouse,
Frankie Knuckles,
Max Romeo,
Roger Hodgson,
Theoretical Girls,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Walker Brothers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Clear Light,
Gang of Four,
Ice-T,
Scratch Acid,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Al Stewart,
Camouflage,
Bush Tetras,
Minny Pops,
Urselle,
Ossler,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Robert Wyatt,
Cymande,
Eric Dolphy,
Juan Atkins,
Erasure,
Mandrill,
Sexual Harrassment,
Chris & Cosey,
Archie Shepp,
Mr. Review,
Ponytail,
Dawn Penn,
DJ Style,
Main Source,
Sonic Youth,
Warren Ellis,
Eddi Front,
Inner City,
DNA, DNA, DNA, DNA.
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.