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 Latvia 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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba 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 Mission of Burma to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masters at Work record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gun Club record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Agent Orange,
Gang of Four,
June Days,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bobby Sherman,
The Slackers,
The Divine Comedy,
Ten City,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Carl Craig,
The J.B.'s,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Eric B and Rakim,
Joyce Sims,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Underground Resistance,
Pet Shop Boys,
Shoche,
Dead Boys,
Johnny Clarke,
Vladislav Delay,
Slick Rick,
Maleditus Sound,
cv313,
Severed Heads,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Panda Bear,
X-101,
Sonny Sharrock,
Massinfluence,
Liliput,
Yaz,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Robert Görl,
The Saints,
Mad Mike,
Nick Fraelich,
Sugar Minott,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Dorothy Ashby,
Skaos,
the Swans,
Graham Central Station,
Erasure,
Avey Tare,
Malaria!,
The Moleskins,
Nico,
Royal Trux,
Andrew Hill,
The Walker Brothers,
X-Ray Spex,
Letta Mbulu,
Stockholm Monsters,
Moby Grape,
Marmalade,
Danielle Patucci,
Brand Nubian,
The Evens,
Masters at Work,
The Zeros,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks, Cheater Slicks.
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.