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 Liberia and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Shuggie Otis to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Hardrive. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Leonard Cohen record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
B.T. Express,
Intrusion,
48th St. Collective,
The Gladiators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Faraquet,
La Düsseldorf,
Sam Rivers,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Warren Ellis,
The Leaves,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Malaria!,
Jeru the Damaja,
Vladislav Delay,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Five Americans,
Pulsallama,
Colin Newman,
The Sonics,
Eurythmics,
The Fuzztones,
The Residents,
James White and The Blacks,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Donny Hathaway,
Idris Muhammad,
Gregory Isaacs,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Ultravox,
Stetsasonic,
David Bowie,
Los Fastidios,
Oneida,
The United States of America,
Funkadelic,
The Misunderstood,
Niagra,
Rotary Connection,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
U.S. Maple,
Toni Rubio,
Harmonia,
Andrew Hill,
Sexual Harrassment,
Harry Pussy,
Chris Corsano,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Tropical Tobacco,
Circle Jerks,
Zero Boys,
Depeche Mode,
the Slits,
Sun City Girls,
Section 25,
Joey Negro,
Crime,
Flash Fearless,
Little Man,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.