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 Solomon Islands and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 808 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 The Fuzztones to the rap kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lee Hazlewood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Throbbing Gristle 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?
The Moody Blues,
Roger Hodgson,
The Kinks,
In Retrospect,
China Crisis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Throbbing Gristle,
Tom Boy,
Cabaret Voltaire,
June Days,
Desert Stars,
Eden Ahbez,
The Slackers,
Radiopuhelimet,
June of 44,
Rekid,
Subhumans,
Sight & Sound,
DJ Sneak,
Marine Girls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Clear Light,
Kayak,
Sam Rivers,
Robert Hood,
Jerry's Kids,
Mary Jane Girls,
Jeff Mills,
Bad Manners,
Sly & The Family Stone,
MDC,
John Coltrane,
Cheater Slicks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Alphaville,
The Doors,
Nils Olav,
Faraquet,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Terry Callier,
Aural Exciters,
Brick,
Bob Dylan,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Index,
Aaron Thompson,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Nick Fraelich,
Amazonics,
Grandmaster Flash,
the Human League,
Kaleidoscope,
Chris & Cosey,
James White and The Blacks,
John Holt,
The Cowsills,
Malaria!,
Monks,
Tommy Roe,
Joensuu 1685,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.