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 Angola 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Calgary.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Bootsy Collins to the electroclash 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 Sonic Youth. All the underground hits.
All Black Pus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 clarinet and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Inner City record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Piero Umiliani,
June Days,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Alphaville,
Don Cherry,
Radio Birdman,
Pet Shop Boys,
kango's stein massive,
X-Ray Spex,
Duran Duran,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
John Lydon,
The Searchers,
Michelle Simonal,
Aural Exciters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lightning Bolt,
One Last Wish,
Rod Modell,
Visage,
Wally Richardson,
Sun City Girls,
Gang Gang Dance,
Section 25,
Malaria!,
Absolute Body Control,
Y Pants,
Popol Vuh,
Lou Reed,
Supertramp,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
A Certain Ratio,
the Bar-Kays,
X-101,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Heaven 17,
The Five Americans,
Pulsallama,
Bad Manners,
Ossler,
Neu!,
KRS-One,
Soul Sonic Force,
Von Mondo,
The Index,
Electric Prunes,
Rites of Spring,
Nirvana,
T. Rex,
Wasted Youth,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Funky Four + One,
Echospace,
The Victims,
Todd Rundgren,
Gil Scott Heron,
Idris Muhammad,
The Blackbyrds,
The Saints,
Pantytec,
D'Angelo,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.