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 Eritrea and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise 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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Sun Ra to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Section 25 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Normal,
New York Dolls,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Hoover,
Skriet,
Michelle Simonal,
The Young Rascals,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bobby Womack,
Carl Craig,
Icehouse,
Vladislav Delay,
Amazonics,
The Fire Engines,
Kayak,
Porter Ricks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Darondo,
Brass Construction,
Heaven 17,
U.S. Maple,
Rotary Connection,
June of 44,
A Certain Ratio,
Black Pus,
Yellowson,
Theoretical Girls,
Japan,
Alison Limerick,
Visage,
Das Ding,
Stockholm Monsters,
Delta 5,
Radiohead,
T. Rex,
Neil Young,
The Selecter,
Isaac Hayes,
Radio Birdman,
New Age Steppers,
David Axelrod,
Skaos,
Jacques Brel,
Quadrant,
Stiv Bators,
Tommy Roe,
Roxette,
The Red Krayola,
Ossler,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Underground Resistance,
X-101,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Pantytec,
The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds, The Blackbyrds.
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.