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 Vietnam and from Sao Paulo.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The Vogues to the dance kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lyres. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Icehouse 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Faust record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
The Moleskins,
Steve Hackett,
Joy Division,
The Move,
Tim Buckley,
Anakelly,
Hoover,
Kayak,
Andrew Hill,
Bronski Beat,
Electric Prunes,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Rufus Thomas,
The Blackbyrds,
Deepchord,
Wolf Eyes,
The Raincoats,
Zero Boys,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Barracudas,
Gil Scott Heron,
Kerrie Biddell,
Malaria!,
David Axelrod,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Hashim,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Stereo Dub,
The Red Krayola,
The Birthday Party,
Eve St. Jones,
The Smiths,
Cheater Slicks,
Arcadia,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Bob Dylan,
U.S. Maple,
Spandau Ballet,
Schoolly D,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Quando Quango,
John Holt,
Scrapy,
Iggy Pop,
Rakim,
Rapeman,
Donald Byrd,
Joe Finger,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Masters at Work,
Flipper,
Smog,
Bang On A Can,
Sandy B,
The Selecter,
In Retrospect,
The Angels of Light,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Scan 7,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.