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 Bhutan and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Anthony Braxton to the funk 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 Stockholm Monsters. All the underground hits.
All Newcleus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Popol Vuh,
Khruangbin,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harry Pussy,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Names,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Rapeman,
Dead Boys,
the Fania All-Stars,
Anthony Braxton,
Public Enemy,
Slave,
Roy Ayers,
Nas,
Rakim,
Crime,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Blackbyrds,
Sandy B,
Derrick Morgan,
Camouflage,
John Cale,
The Dead C,
Magma,
JFA,
Lyres,
Donald Byrd,
Darondo,
Joey Negro,
The Gap Band,
Stereo Dub,
New Age Steppers,
Spoonie Gee,
Gastr Del Sol,
Fela Kuti,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hashim,
Faraquet,
a-ha,
Wings,
New York Dolls,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lightning Bolt,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Scan 7,
The American Breed,
Panda Bear,
Barry Ungar,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Delon & Dalcan,
Desert Stars,
Wasted Youth,
Throbbing Gristle,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Das Ding,
Vladislav Delay,
Funkadelic,
Franke,
Piero Umiliani,
MDC,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Brothers Johnson,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.