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 Zambia and from Shanghai.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Excepter to the grime 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Move record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marmalade,
Jeru the Damaja,
Gang of Four,
Zapp,
The Remains,
The Names,
Zero Boys,
Arab on Radar,
Maurizio,
L. Decosne,
The Tremeloes,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Delta 5,
Nils Olav,
John Foxx,
Average White Band,
Eddi Front,
A Flock of Seagulls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lalo Schifrin,
Yaz,
The Neon Judgement,
Bob Dylan,
The Evens,
Negative Approach,
Shoche,
Funky Four + One,
Duran Duran,
Sixth Finger,
Organ,
Sound Behaviour,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Oneida,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Judy Mowatt,
Camouflage,
Boogie Down Productions,
ABBA,
Fat Boys,
Schoolly D,
Kurtis Blow,
Funkadelic,
Scion,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Jeff Mills,
Flamin' Groovies,
the Human League,
The Knickerbockers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Robert Wyatt,
Thompson Twins,
Grauzone,
Eurythmics,
The Happenings,
Ten City,
Maleditus Sound,
Wire,
Altered Images,
the Slits,
Jacob Miller,
Junior Murvin,
Ronan,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.