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 Denmark and from Mumbai.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 güiro 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 Doobie Brothers to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Altered Images. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Mojo Men,
Surgeon,
Morten Harket,
Index,
Lucky Dragons,
The Motions,
Stiv Bators,
John Foxx,
Scan 7,
Royal Trux,
Sam Rivers,
The Saints,
Goldenarms,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sarah Menescal,
The Last Poets,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Seeds,
Josef K,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
MDC,
James White and The Blacks,
Skaos,
Max Romeo,
Magazine,
John Holt,
Crooked Eye,
Barry Ungar,
Kaleidoscope,
Bill Wells,
Stereo Dub,
Godley & Creme,
Unrelated Segments,
The Martian,
Swell Maps,
David Axelrod,
Sugar Minott,
Blancmange,
Jerry's Kids,
Brand Nubian,
Darondo,
Bronski Beat,
Television,
Duran Duran,
Blake Baxter,
Toni Rubio,
Deakin,
Smog,
Siglo XX,
Agent Orange,
Bobby Womack,
Henry Cow,
The American Breed,
FM Einheit,
Arcadia,
The Blues Magoos,
Gang of Four,
The Zeros,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.