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 Kenya and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Woodstock.
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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
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 The Red Krayola to the crunk 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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MC5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The American Breed,
The Techniques,
Ossler,
Sexual Harrassment,
Warsaw,
Blake Baxter,
Al Stewart,
Camouflage,
The Fugs,
Ultravox,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eddi Front,
Reagan Youth,
Sound Behaviour,
Tears for Fears,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
David McCallum,
Sight & Sound,
The Electric Prunes,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Young Marble Giants,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Doors,
The Blues Magoos,
the Swans,
Jimmy McGriff,
Heaven 17,
Joensuu 1685,
Soft Cell,
The Martian,
Television,
the Sonics,
Amon Düül II,
Pole,
Roy Ayers,
Sugar Minott,
Amon Düül,
Moby Grape,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Lakeside,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Raincoats,
Skarface,
The Gladiators,
Public Enemy,
the Human League,
48th St. Collective,
Chrome,
CMW,
The Alarm Clocks,
Erykah Badu,
Rapeman,
Tom Boy,
Mark Hollis,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Durutti Column,
Groovy Waters,
Mantronix,
Audionom,
Pussy Galore,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.