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 Brazil and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 linndrum 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 Eve St. Jones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Babytalk. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Chris & Cosey 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Guru Guru record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
D'Angelo,
June Days,
Skarface,
Matthew Bourne,
The Last Poets,
DNA,
The Sound,
The Pretty Things,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Gladiators,
Tommy Roe,
The Dead C,
Mary Jane Girls,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Neil Young,
The United States of America,
Roxy Music,
48th St. Collective,
Yazoo,
Amon Düül,
Erykah Badu,
The Tremeloes,
Y Pants,
Hasil Adkins,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Litter,
Barbara Tucker,
Porter Ricks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Eurythmics,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Mantronix,
Peter and Kerry,
Can,
Flash Fearless,
Index,
Monks,
Magazine,
Minny Pops,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ronan,
Nik Kershaw,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Fad Gadget,
Con Funk Shun,
Man Parrish,
The Slackers,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Spoonie Gee,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bizarre Inc.,
JFA,
Simply Red,
The Zeros,
Kevin Saunderson,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ludus,
Ultravox,
One Last Wish,
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.