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 Liberia and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the marimba 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 Oblivians to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Fifty Foot Hose. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Radiopuhelimet,
Visage,
Goldenarms,
Ken Boothe,
Mr. Review,
Nas,
Alison Limerick,
Bauhaus,
Joy Division,
Michelle Simonal,
Wire,
The Slits,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kurtis Blow,
Girls At Our Best!,
Groovy Waters,
Bob Dylan,
Colin Newman,
The Wake,
The Raincoats,
Franke,
The Moody Blues,
Carl Craig,
DJ Style,
Excepter,
Scion,
Tres Demented,
Joe Finger,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Susan Cadogan,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Amon Düül,
the Human League,
D'Angelo,
Model 500,
The Walker Brothers,
Boz Scaggs,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sandy B,
Aloha Tigers,
K-Klass,
The Invisible,
Fela Kuti,
Isaac Hayes,
Rosa Yemen,
Outsiders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Spoonie Gee,
Zero Boys,
Nik Kershaw,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Smiths,
Bad Manners,
Bill Wells,
Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet, Faraquet.
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.