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 Estonia and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 theremin 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 Porter Ricks to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Brothers Johnson. All the underground hits.
All Jesper Dahlbäck tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Royal Trux record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Deakin,
Little Man,
Swell Maps,
The Wake,
Half Japanese,
Con Funk Shun,
Loose Ends,
Subhumans,
Tomorrow,
Pierre Henry,
Girls At Our Best!,
Man Eating Sloth,
Patti Smith,
Alison Limerick,
Harry Pussy,
The Sonics,
The Busters,
Infiniti,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Dead C,
Harmonia,
Crash Course in Science,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Guru Guru,
Black Pus,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Davy DMX,
Darondo,
Avey Tare,
The Techniques,
The Smoke,
AZ,
Althea and Donna,
Nation of Ulysses,
A Certain Ratio,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxette,
Eric Copeland,
Crooked Eye,
The Skatalites,
The Detroit Cobras,
New York Dolls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Fire Engines,
The American Breed,
Das Ding,
Liliput,
Gang Gang Dance,
Von Mondo,
Erasure,
The Residents,
Intrusion,
Los Fastidios,
The Stooges,
Scott Walker,
Pole,
Ice-T,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.