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 Mongolia and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 F. McDonald to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Durutti Column record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Frankie Knuckles,
Pantaleimon,
Lou Christie,
Ronnie Foster,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Inner City,
Surgeon,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Fad Gadget,
Roxette,
Rosa Yemen,
The Skatalites,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Martian,
The Fall,
Ice-T,
The Durutti Column,
Slick Rick,
Soul II Soul,
The Divine Comedy,
Boz Scaggs,
The Golliwogs,
Boredoms,
The Sonics,
Eddi Front,
T.S.O.L.,
Angry Samoans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Kaleidoscope,
Gang Gang Dance,
Roger Hodgson,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Radiohead,
Buzzcocks,
Zero Boys,
Kurtis Blow,
The Five Americans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lalann,
Arthur Verocai,
Erykah Badu,
Hasil Adkins,
Jawbox,
Oneida,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Basic Channel,
Absolute Body Control,
The Modern Lovers,
Half Japanese,
AZ,
Minnie Riperton,
John Foxx,
Archie Shepp,
The J.B.'s,
Whodini,
The Electric Prunes,
Soft Machine,
Tim Buckley,
John Coltrane,
L. Decosne,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.