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 Burkina and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the funk 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 Prince Buster. All the underground hits.
All Blossom Toes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Almond record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skriet,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Dirtbombs,
The Index,
Public Enemy,
Adolescents,
Procol Harum,
Janne Schatter,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sight & Sound,
Groovy Waters,
Los Fastidios,
Peter and Kerry,
Pylon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Technova,
Radiohead,
China Crisis,
The Birthday Party,
Oblivians,
Monolake,
Sparks,
Sex Pistols,
DNA,
These Immortal Souls,
Cecil Taylor,
Idris Muhammad,
Magma,
The Names,
Aswad,
Con Funk Shun,
Ultravox,
Roger Hodgson,
Skaos,
The Angels of Light,
Mad Mike,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scrapy,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Evens,
Scott Walker,
Lalann,
La Düsseldorf,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Erasure,
John Cale,
Can,
Newcleus,
Buzzcocks,
Bill Near,
Jacob Miller,
Drive Like Jehu,
Bobby Womack,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Kas Product,
The Smoke,
Colin Newman,
Vladislav Delay,
Smog,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.