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 Peru and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Danielle Patucci to the punk 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 Derrick May. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tropical Tobacco record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crime record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Motions,
Crispian St. Peters,
Terrestrial Tones,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sexual Harrassment,
Delon & Dalcan,
Joyce Sims,
Robert Wyatt,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Vladislav Delay,
Alison Limerick,
Rod Modell,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Lower 48,
Agent Orange,
T. Rex,
Todd Terry,
Desert Stars,
The Flesh Eaters,
Parry Music,
Essential Logic,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bush Tetras,
Interpol,
U.S. Maple,
Black Pus,
Deakin,
Ultra Naté,
Severed Heads,
Alton Ellis,
This Heat,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Goldenarms,
The Barracudas,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Neon Judgement,
Sugar Minott,
Dawn Penn,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Dirtbombs,
Joensuu 1685,
The Fire Engines,
Soul II Soul,
Bootsy Collins,
Slave,
Fad Gadget,
the Sonics,
Amazonics,
Glambeats Corp.,
DNA,
Marmalade,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Happenings,
Shuggie Otis,
Absolute Body Control,
Suburban Knight,
Magazine,
Scrapy,
Angry Samoans,
Boredoms,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Normal, the Normal, the Normal, the Normal.
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.