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 Iceland and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 chamberlin 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the grime 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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Hoover 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
David Axelrod,
Pussy Galore,
Wally Richardson,
The Mojo Men,
Yellowson,
The Pop Group,
Faust,
The Raincoats,
the Sonics,
Youth Brigade,
Bronski Beat,
Half Japanese,
The Gun Club,
The Cure,
The United States of America,
Derrick May,
Boredoms,
New York Dolls,
Maurizio,
Soft Machine,
Y Pants,
Buzzcocks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Organ,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Freddie Wadling,
Supertramp,
Jandek,
Jacques Brel,
The Fall,
Eric Dolphy,
Sonic Youth,
Agent Orange,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Rosa Yemen,
Connie Case,
Lakeside,
Boogie Down Productions,
Radiopuhelimet,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Stooges,
James White and The Blacks,
New Age Steppers,
Von Mondo,
The Black Dice,
Crash Course in Science,
The Electric Prunes,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kevin Saunderson,
Kayak,
Jacob Miller,
Black Bananas,
Duran Duran,
Pulsallama,
Babytalk,
Aaron Thompson,
Siglo XX,
Skaos,
Eden Ahbez,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Techniques,
the Swans,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.