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 Tajikistan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Holger Czukay 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 Alphaville to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All The Pop Group tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ronnie Foster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delta 5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Deepchord,
Colin Newman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gong,
June Days,
X-Ray Spex,
The Buckinghams,
Brass Construction,
Harmonia,
James White and The Blacks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Gang Gang Dance,
Agent Orange,
The Birthday Party,
The Fuzztones,
Procol Harum,
Crispian St. Peters,
Donald Byrd,
Robert Wyatt,
Pussy Galore,
Rekid,
48th St. Collective,
Tres Demented,
Grauzone,
Lebanon Hanover,
Boogie Down Productions,
Wire,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Johnny Clarke,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Radio Birdman,
Babytalk,
Can,
Fugazi,
the Sonics,
A Certain Ratio,
The Martian,
Rotary Connection,
Quadrant,
Dead Boys,
Carl Craig,
Stetsasonic,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Roxy Music,
The Standells,
Khruangbin,
Panda Bear,
Susan Cadogan,
Cheater Slicks,
Kevin Saunderson,
John Lydon,
Camberwell Now,
Fluxion,
Minny Pops,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nils Olav,
Gastr Del Sol,
LL Cool J,
Soft Machine,
Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo, Max Romeo.
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.