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 Palau and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Grandmaster Flash to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Eyeless In Gaza tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Byrd 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an oboe 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 theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Soft Cell,
Mandrill,
Altered Images,
Carl Craig,
The Names,
Wings,
ABC,
Magazine,
Stockholm Monsters,
Duran Duran,
Yazoo,
Colin Newman,
Cecil Taylor,
H. Thieme,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kurtis Blow,
Blossom Toes,
Yellowson,
Yusef Lateef,
Rapeman,
Quadrant,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Happenings,
Von Mondo,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Move,
The Blackbyrds,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Delta 5,
Talk Talk,
The Vogues,
Prince Buster,
The Skatalites,
Jesper Dahlback,
Hoover,
Alice Coltrane,
Jeff Lynne,
Marshall Jefferson,
Marine Girls,
Sam Rivers,
Camouflage,
Hashim,
Malaria!,
Q and Not U,
Roy Ayers,
Unwound,
Tropical Tobacco,
Shoche,
Babytalk,
Letta Mbulu,
Lou Christie,
Isaac Hayes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kaleidoscope,
Sight & Sound,
Zapp,
Darondo,
Nirvana,
The Slackers,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.