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 El Salvador and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer 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 Monochrome Set to the funk 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 Dark Day. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz 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?
Grauzone,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hardrive,
Silicon Teens,
Brass Construction,
Graham Central Station,
Television,
Loose Ends,
Moebius,
Cal Tjader,
Buzzcocks,
Andrew Hill,
Gil Scott Heron,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
cv313,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
F. McDonald,
Quadrant,
New Order,
Young Marble Giants,
Lebanon Hanover,
Slave,
the Sonics,
Man Eating Sloth,
Al Stewart,
Theoretical Girls,
Radio Birdman,
10cc,
Country Joe & The Fish,
X-101,
MDC,
Ossler,
Jeff Mills,
Skaos,
Surgeon,
Das Ding,
Rites of Spring,
New York Dolls,
Henry Cow,
Bill Near,
The Cure,
ABC,
the Slits,
John Cale,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Last Poets,
the Fania All-Stars,
Minor Threat,
Bill Wells,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Agent Orange,
Pet Shop Boys,
a-ha,
World's Most,
The Slackers,
Neu!,
Janne Schatter,
Aswad,
Peter and Kerry,
Roxy Music,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
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.