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 Ethiopia and from Madrid.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Desert Stars to the techno 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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Fatback Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Camouflage record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a CMW record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Mojo Men,
Stiv Bators,
Gong,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Knickerbockers,
Lalann,
Amon Düül II,
Slick Rick,
The Neon Judgement,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Cure,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Lyres,
Aswad,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ronnie Foster,
Livin' Joy,
The Fall,
Sam Rivers,
Magazine,
T. Rex,
Echospace,
The Toasters,
Quadrant,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tres Demented,
the Germs,
Sight & Sound,
Pantaleimon,
Chris Corsano,
Marmalade,
Fort Wilson Riot,
a-ha,
Lindisfarne,
R.M.O.,
Max Romeo,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Smoke,
Dawn Penn,
Girls At Our Best!,
Terrestrial Tones,
T.S.O.L.,
Dorothy Ashby,
Young Marble Giants,
Desert Stars,
Mantronix,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fela Kuti,
The Techniques,
Scan 7,
Funkadelic,
Y Pants,
Tomorrow,
The Moleskins,
Fluxion,
Kevin Saunderson,
Loose Ends,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.