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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from London.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Yaz. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yazoo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skriet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
The Detroit Cobras,
Connie Case,
The Names,
Mo-Dettes,
Fad Gadget,
Tres Demented,
Susan Cadogan,
Simply Red,
New Order,
Swans,
Rakim,
Second Layer,
Scan 7,
The Dave Clark Five,
Slave,
the Human League,
Wolf Eyes,
Black Moon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Negative Approach,
Yusef Lateef,
The Smoke,
Niagra,
Bronski Beat,
The Gories,
the Germs,
D'Angelo,
The Remains,
The Trojans,
Man Eating Sloth,
Funkadelic,
DNA,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
L. Decosne,
David McCallum,
The American Breed,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gang Green,
Joe Finger,
Maleditus Sound,
Pierre Henry,
Erasure,
Ornette Coleman,
48th St. Collective,
Jesper Dahlback,
Public Enemy,
The Kinks,
Todd Terry,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sarah Menescal,
Thee Headcoats,
Marmalade,
Ohio Players,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Donald Byrd,
Crash Course in Science,
Arab on Radar,
Godley & Creme,
Glambeats Corp.,
Camberwell Now,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Evens,
The Victims, The Victims, The Victims, The Victims.
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.