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 Belarus and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Robert Palmer 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 Anthony Braxton to the funk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Kayak. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Traffic Nightmare 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
Albert Ayler,
the Normal,
Nico,
Angry Samoans,
The Martian,
Agitation Free,
Judy Mowatt,
Y Pants,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Grass Roots,
The Fortunes,
Camouflage,
Scan 7,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grey Daturas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Moleskins,
Royal Trux,
Harmonia,
Pylon,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Organ,
Bang On A Can,
Derrick Morgan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Blues Magoos,
Cecil Taylor,
Marshall Jefferson,
Skriet,
The Dave Clark Five,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Flipper,
Kayak,
MC5,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Cybotron,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Radio Birdman,
Crispian St. Peters,
F. McDonald,
K-Klass,
Quantec,
Negative Approach,
Bush Tetras,
The Kinks,
Adolescents,
UT,
Jerry's Kids,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Pretty Things,
Silicon Teens,
H. Thieme,
X-102,
Minnie Riperton,
Blancmange,
Ultravox,
Brand Nubian,
The Offenders,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.