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 Salvador.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Girls At Our Best! to the disco kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All The Monochrome Set tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Girls At Our Best! record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Anakelly 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?
Infiniti,
Metal Thangz,
Qualms,
Tom Boy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Amon Düül,
Roy Ayers,
Quantec,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Gap Band,
Delta 5,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Buzzcocks,
Anakelly,
Anthony Braxton,
The Star Department,
Average White Band,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gang Green,
Bobby Womack,
Little Man,
Cheater Slicks,
Grandmaster Flash,
Roger Hodgson,
Aural Exciters,
The Names,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Selecter,
The Detroit Cobras,
This Heat,
Patti Smith,
Alison Limerick,
the Normal,
E-Dancer,
Radio Birdman,
Sex Pistols,
Depeche Mode,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wally Richardson,
Todd Terry,
Fat Boys,
Lalo Schifrin,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Procol Harum,
Black Sheep,
Bronski Beat,
Arthur Verocai,
Vladislav Delay,
These Immortal Souls,
Marcia Griffiths,
Drexciya,
Laurel Aitken,
Bauhaus,
Sparks,
Connie Case,
The Neon Judgement,
Dave Gahan,
Joey Negro,
Sam Rivers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Ronan,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.