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 Armenia and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Barrington Levy 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 Qualms. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Surgeon 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ronnie Foster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mantronix,
Dawn Penn,
Cecil Taylor,
Wally Richardson,
The J.B.'s,
Technova,
cv313,
Ludus,
Hashim,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
MDC,
Johnny Clarke,
Eddi Front,
Delta 5,
Arthur Verocai,
Make Up,
Wolf Eyes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bluetip,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Kaleidoscope,
B.T. Express,
Desert Stars,
The Music Machine,
Joyce Sims,
Sister Nancy,
Television Personalities,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Monochrome Set,
Rod Modell,
Donald Byrd,
The Moleskins,
Absolute Body Control,
Severed Heads,
Scion,
The Residents,
Angry Samoans,
Thompson Twins,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Pop Group,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Patti Smith,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Funky Four + One,
Idris Muhammad,
Eurythmics,
PIL,
Minny Pops,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wire,
Bob Dylan,
Magazine,
Audionom,
Zero Boys,
Infiniti,
The Toasters,
Gichy Dan,
Byron Stingily,
Sällskapet,
Alphaville,
The Busters,
Don Cherry,
Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan, Dave Gahan.
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.