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 Guinea-Bissau and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 clarinet 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 Trumans Water to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Roger Hodgson. All the underground hits.
All Q and Not U tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Pantaleimon,
Tubeway Army,
This Heat,
Duran Duran,
Outsiders,
Man Parrish,
the Germs,
Susan Cadogan,
Black Sheep,
The Victims,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Grauzone,
Fear,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Walker Brothers,
The Evens,
Symarip,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Barbara Tucker,
The Gladiators,
Man Eating Sloth,
Robert Wyatt,
Warren Ellis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Traffic Nightmare,
Lyres,
Jeff Mills,
cv313,
MDC,
Soft Machine,
Jacob Miller,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Fluxion,
Radiohead,
Quantec,
the Slits,
Niagra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Deadbeat,
DJ Style,
Barrington Levy,
Ossler,
X-Ray Spex,
DJ Sneak,
The Flesh Eaters,
Amon Düül II,
Y Pants,
Sight & Sound,
The Mojo Men,
Cybotron,
Dual Sessions,
Pharoah Sanders,
Funkadelic,
Carl Craig,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Eli Mardock,
MC5,
The Fire Engines,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.