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 Zambia and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Woodstock.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet 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 MC5 to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All Qualms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liliput record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
The Young Rascals,
Scott Walker,
Bad Manners,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mr. Review,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Basic Channel,
Freddie Wadling,
Dead Boys,
One Last Wish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Man Parrish,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Guru Guru,
Blossom Toes,
Procol Harum,
The Slackers,
Wally Richardson,
Lalann,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Surgeon,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Bobby Byrd,
Con Funk Shun,
Rakim,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Trojans,
Carl Craig,
Marine Girls,
Intrusion,
Colin Newman,
Prince Buster,
Goldenarms,
Magazine,
The Techniques,
Wasted Youth,
Matthew Halsall,
Zapp,
Gerry Rafferty,
Metal Thangz,
Byron Stingily,
Dark Day,
Bronski Beat,
The Mojo Men,
Hashim,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Cymande,
Rites of Spring,
Delta 5,
John Foxx,
Joe Finger,
Fatback Band,
Sandy B,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Skarface,
Pussy Galore,
Fela Kuti,
Pagans, Pagans, Pagans, Pagans.
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.