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 Maldives and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Philadelphia.
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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Sister Nancy to the techno 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 Black Pus. All the underground hits.
All Idris Muhammad tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Joey Negro record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marvin Gaye,
Eric Copeland,
Angry Samoans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pharoah Sanders,
Toni Rubio,
John Coltrane,
The Dead C,
D'Angelo,
Moss Icon,
Basic Channel,
Sonny Sharrock,
Clear Light,
Ronan,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Move,
Silicon Teens,
Khruangbin,
Todd Terry,
Banda Bassotti,
Gang Starr,
Magma,
Lebanon Hanover,
Soul II Soul,
Roxy Music,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Flipper,
The Human League,
The Cowsills,
The Martian,
Technova,
The Associates,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Zapp,
Spoonie Gee,
China Crisis,
Massinfluence,
David McCallum,
The Offenders,
Easy Going,
Black Moon,
Skriet,
Y Pants,
Popol Vuh,
Blancmange,
the Sonics,
Harpers Bizarre,
Mission of Burma,
Subhumans,
DNA,
Gastr Del Sol,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Neil Young,
Suicide,
Spandau Ballet,
Inner City,
Harry Pussy,
The Motions,
Altered Images,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers, The Searchers.
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.