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 Mozambique and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Country Teasers to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Kinks. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Liliput record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Derrick May,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Neu!,
Kayak,
Marc Almond,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Brand Nubian,
MDC,
The Mojo Men,
Malaria!,
Make Up,
The Techniques,
Sparks,
Black Sheep,
The Black Dice,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Happenings,
MC5,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
ABBA,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Rekid,
The Dead C,
Massinfluence,
Connie Case,
the Soft Cell,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Litter,
Roger Hodgson,
The Vogues,
Wings,
World's Most,
The Detroit Cobras,
Erykah Badu,
the Germs,
Flipper,
The Move,
The Smiths,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Depeche Mode,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
New Order,
Liliput,
Barbara Tucker,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Monks,
Jeff Lynne,
Monolake,
Sun City Girls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Swell Maps,
Siglo XX,
Stiv Bators,
Man Parrish,
Wolf Eyes,
Bill Wells,
Robert Görl,
Clear Light,
the Normal,
Tim Buckley,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.