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 Peru and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 oboe 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 Lou Reed & Metallica to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Rapeman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer 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 spring reverb and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes 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?
The Alarm Clocks,
Television Personalities,
The Dirtbombs,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joe Finger,
Nils Olav,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
T. Rex,
Jacob Miller,
The Cowsills,
The Durutti Column,
The Searchers,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Rites of Spring,
The Doobie Brothers,
Second Layer,
Jerry's Kids,
Bronski Beat,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Aural Exciters,
Bluetip,
Derrick May,
Alphaville,
Camouflage,
Radio Birdman,
Slave,
Roy Ayers,
Tom Boy,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Hashim,
Thee Headcoats,
DNA,
Fela Kuti,
Matthew Halsall,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Skatalites,
Pagans,
Joe Smooth,
Suicide,
Quando Quango,
Robert Wyatt,
John Cale,
The Velvet Underground,
Yaz,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Barracudas,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Idris Muhammad,
R.M.O.,
Freddie Wadling,
X-Ray Spex,
Ice-T,
Interpol,
Rapeman,
Loose Ends,
Agent Orange,
The Martian,
Mantronix,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.