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 Mali and from Columbus.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Manila.
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 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 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 Sällskapet to the rock 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Flipper tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Connie Case,
Dark Day,
Rosa Yemen,
the Bar-Kays,
Eyeless In Gaza,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Max Romeo,
Lou Christie,
Glenn Branca,
Rapeman,
The Skatalites,
Juan Atkins,
Pagans,
the Soft Cell,
The Grass Roots,
10cc,
A Certain Ratio,
Bobby Byrd,
Robert Hood,
L. Decosne,
Vainqueur,
Con Funk Shun,
The Wake,
the Slits,
LL Cool J,
Brick,
Ultra Naté,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Stooges,
Soft Cell,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Index,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
R.M.O.,
Ralphi Rosario,
Deakin,
Eric Dolphy,
Zero Boys,
Ludus,
Camouflage,
Byron Stingily,
The Fire Engines,
Cecil Taylor,
The New Christs,
The Toasters,
Theoretical Girls,
AZ,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Masters at Work,
Tubeway Army,
Drexciya,
Gang Green,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Crash Course in Science,
Brass Construction,
Visage,
Wasted Youth,
Fatback Band,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Godley & Creme,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.