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 Poland and from Cairo.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Theoretical Girls to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Rosa Yemen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Supertramp record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monolake,
Erykah Badu,
Crooked Eye,
Joyce Sims,
Lucky Dragons,
Juan Atkins,
Gichy Dan,
Loose Ends,
Boredoms,
The Leaves,
Marcia Griffiths,
Q and Not U,
Don Cherry,
Bob Dylan,
The Cure,
Lebanon Hanover,
Mantronix,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Index,
Peter and Kerry,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Kas Product,
Franke,
Interpol,
Ronnie Foster,
Pussy Galore,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Wasted Youth,
Kenny Larkin,
Technova,
Tubeway Army,
Hasil Adkins,
Girls At Our Best!,
Oneida,
Man Eating Sloth,
John Coltrane,
Jimmy McGriff,
Steve Hackett,
Das Ding,
Lower 48,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Sonic Youth,
The New Christs,
The Skatalites,
Wire,
Make Up,
The Cowsills,
Organ,
Babytalk,
The Smoke,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Warren Ellis,
Joensuu 1685,
The Trojans,
The Victims,
Subhumans,
a-ha,
The Monochrome Set,
Dead Boys,
The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues, The Moody Blues.
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.