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 Guyana and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 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 Iggy Pop to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neu! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Radio Birdman,
Saccharine Trust,
Tears for Fears,
Nico,
Schoolly D,
Wire,
Rosa Yemen,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Thompson Twins,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marmalade,
Deakin,
Porter Ricks,
Agent Orange,
New Order,
Scratch Acid,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hardrive,
Girls At Our Best!,
Banda Bassotti,
Ituana,
Niagra,
Wally Richardson,
Amon Düül,
Andrew Hill,
the Association,
Lou Christie,
X-101,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Black Sheep,
The Martian,
Sam Rivers,
The Pretty Things,
Oneida,
cv313,
Lindisfarne,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Buzzcocks,
Spandau Ballet,
Eric B and Rakim,
Spoonie Gee,
Laurel Aitken,
Television,
The Cure,
The Real Kids,
Icehouse,
Urselle,
The Invisible,
X-Ray Spex,
Warren Ellis,
David Bowie,
Thee Headcoats,
Rites of Spring,
Dead Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
Janne Schatter,
Crispian St. Peters,
June of 44,
Radiopuhelimet,
Mo-Dettes,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.