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 Venezuela and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Juan Atkins to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All The Smoke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fortunes,
Underground Resistance,
B.T. Express,
Essential Logic,
Traffic Nightmare,
Aaron Thompson,
Surgeon,
Eve St. Jones,
Scan 7,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Blancmange,
Fad Gadget,
Reuben Wilson,
The Trojans,
Janne Schatter,
Rekid,
The Durutti Column,
Ponytail,
Dawn Penn,
the Normal,
The Happenings,
Nirvana,
David McCallum,
Masters at Work,
Vladislav Delay,
Bobby Hutcherson,
JFA,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Metal Thangz,
La Düsseldorf,
Kas Product,
Fear,
The Beau Brummels,
Fat Boys,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mad Mike,
Gastr Del Sol,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Slits,
Accadde A,
The American Breed,
Cameo,
Bang On A Can,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Popol Vuh,
Hot Snakes,
Soul II Soul,
Sällskapet,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Nas,
10cc,
The Tremeloes,
Yazoo,
Subhumans,
Matthew Halsall,
Godley & Creme,
Country Teasers,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.