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 Marshall Islands 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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Saccharine Trust to the dance 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 Josef K. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s 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 Harry Pussy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Darondo,
Nick Fraelich,
Godley & Creme,
Camouflage,
Piero Umiliani,
Organ,
Angry Samoans,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Anakelly,
Laurel Aitken,
The Tremeloes,
Young Marble Giants,
Electric Prunes,
The Flesh Eaters,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Urselle,
The Smoke,
Cecil Taylor,
Massinfluence,
Pantytec,
Gerry Rafferty,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Intrusion,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Seeds,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Leaves,
Boogie Down Productions,
Archie Shepp,
Al Stewart,
DNA,
Nico,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Skatalites,
Matthew Bourne,
Suicide,
Boredoms,
The Birthday Party,
Robert Wyatt,
June of 44,
The Mummies,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Man Parrish,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Con Funk Shun,
Unwound,
Theoretical Girls,
Los Fastidios,
Clear Light,
Don Cherry,
OOIOO,
Flipper,
Sällskapet,
Anthony Braxton,
Swell Maps,
Cluster,
Rufus Thomas,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.