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 Jamaica and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Wire show in Watford.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Eric B and Rakim to the funk 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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Music Machine 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cowsills,
Henry Cow,
Monks,
The Cure,
Althea and Donna,
Cybotron,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultra Naté,
L. Decosne,
Roxy Music,
Theoretical Girls,
Q and Not U,
Tears for Fears,
Visage,
Gregory Isaacs,
Severed Heads,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Gabor Szabo,
Interpol,
The Count Five,
Adolescents,
Robert Hood,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sam Rivers,
Toni Rubio,
Little Man,
The New Christs,
OOIOO,
U.S. Maple,
The J.B.'s,
The Gun Club,
The Sonics,
Clear Light,
Kaleidoscope,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jesper Dahlback,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marshall Jefferson,
Susan Cadogan,
Deepchord,
Idris Muhammad,
Isaac Hayes,
Bob Dylan,
The Golliwogs,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Half Japanese,
Fad Gadget,
Eli Mardock,
ABBA,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Technova,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jeru the Damaja,
Deadbeat,
Throbbing Gristle,
Derrick Morgan,
B.T. Express,
Carl Craig,
Ten City,
Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid, Scratch Acid.
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.