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 South Sudan and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Velvet Underground to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Chris & Cosey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mars,
Hoover,
Anakelly,
Scion,
Television Personalities,
Suicide,
John Holt,
The New Christs,
Urselle,
Don Cherry,
The Remains,
Aloha Tigers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Basic Channel,
The Flesh Eaters,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Maleditus Sound,
the Germs,
Soft Machine,
Shuggie Otis,
New Order,
The Evens,
Can,
Sugar Minott,
The Victims,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tommy Roe,
Arcadia,
F. McDonald,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Robert Görl,
The Blues Magoos,
The Slackers,
Pylon,
The Dirtbombs,
Lee Hazlewood,
Cal Tjader,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Buckinghams,
Rosa Yemen,
Charles Mingus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Talk Talk,
The Music Machine,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Henry Cow,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Mojo Men,
The Selecter,
Jawbox,
Visage,
Grauzone,
Nick Fraelich,
Scrapy,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mission of Burma,
Steve Hackett,
The Knickerbockers,
Gregory Isaacs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.