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 Poland and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Heaven 17 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Jeru the Damaja,
48th St. Collective,
Fluxion,
Arab on Radar,
Michelle Simonal,
a-ha,
Jacques Brel,
Lyres,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Nas,
The Raincoats,
Sex Pistols,
Hoover,
Funky Four + One,
New Age Steppers,
The Pop Group,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Standells,
Shuggie Otis,
Young Marble Giants,
Moby Grape,
Joyce Sims,
Talk Talk,
A Certain Ratio,
The Grass Roots,
Ituana,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eve St. Jones,
Glenn Branca,
Magma,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warsaw,
R.M.O.,
Radiopuhelimet,
Yellowson,
cv313,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
the Fania All-Stars,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Von Mondo,
ABBA,
The Gladiators,
Yaz,
Sexual Harrassment,
Newcleus,
Tres Demented,
Bauhaus,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Make Up,
Andrew Hill,
Urselle,
The Litter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Black Bananas,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Moleskins,
Fifty Foot Hose,
the Human League,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.